Free Pepper
by lightening816
Summary: An orphaned girl runs away to Cheesebridge to find a better life, but all she finds is a superficial town, supernatural monsters, and their gruesome tales all coming from a man who won't let her think otherwise.
1. Prologue

Free Pepper

Prologue

"Would you happen to have a three, Mr. Trout?"  
"Go fish, Mr. Pickles. Mr. Gristle, would you have a nine by any chance?"  
"GOLDFISH! HAHAHA!"  
"No, no, it's 'Go Fish', not 'goldfish'."  
"Quite right, Mr. Trout."

Mr. Pickles, Mr. Trout, and Mr. Gristle were happy to report that they found great ways to entertain themselves during their time off from work. Sitting at their table in the factory they called their work location, they look amongst each other and analyzed the back of each other's cards. Tall beanpole Pickles had seven cards in his hands, the hulking, crooked nosed thug Trout had four, and the manic iced blue eyed Gristle was, as always, winning with two. They would go around and around asking each other for specific cards. Mr. Pickles took up a card when he asked for an eight from Mr. Gristle, and then Mr. Trout took a card at the mention of a one from Mr. Pickles. Mr. Gristle, on the other hand, was soon enough, down to one card. As he giggled over his little card, he took a look at Mr. Trout and smiled with his mouth filled with crooked teeth.

"A four, Mr. Trout?" The large yet gentle man sighed.  
"Not again..."  
"...Nice..." Mr. Gristle gladly took Mr. Trout's four of aces and laughed.

"Hmm, you always seem to win, Mr. Gristle," Mr. Pickles remarked. He grinned at his tall companion. "Only when the Boss ain't playin'. He always wins when he's in," Mr. Trout replied.  
"Oh, that's right." Mr. Pickles looked over at the single door that led to their truck's driveway.  
"When did he say he'd be back?" "I'm pretty sure he said it was hard to know. Depends on how long his talk with His Lordship is."You think he'll be back before curfew?" Mr. Trout gave him a funny look as Mr. Gristle shuffled the deck.

"Mr. Pickles, when has the Boss ever been late for work?"  
"Well...actually...never."  
...

The Boss' clacking footsteps echoed as he stepped through the sidewalk leading up to his final destination. The man hummed to himself as he looked about him. Fellow citizens would take a glance, give a whisper and watch him continue his walk until he disappeared from their field of vision.

He didn't really mind it. The Boss liked the attention he now received from the townsfolk. Some even dared to stop and ask him about his work, to which he would explain all the he cared to in a triumphant manner.  
It had been almost a year since the disappearance of the local inventor, Herbert Trubshaw, and his young infant son, Arthur. And of course, because the Boss' job was that of a nightly town exterminator to be on patrol for pests, bugs, and even more so, the dreaded Boxtrolls, he was first to know. He recalled the night of the disappearance as if it was yesterday.

 _"Boxtroll monsters have stolen a child!"_

The Mayor of the town was the first one he told.

 _"You're the town exterminator. I'll pay whatever it takes!"_

But the Boss didn't want money. He smiled at himself as he recalled what he'd asked for.

 _"A White Hat? You? Absurd!"_  
 _"Alright then, but prepare to say bye-bye to your Brie! Cheerio to your cheddar! Goodbye to your-"_  
 _"Very well! Every Boxtroll gone! With proof..."_  
 _"For a White Hat? I will destroy every last Boxtroll in this town!"_

Following this fateful agreement, the man in the Red Hat had certainly be committing to his vow, and why wouldn't he?

The White Hat was the most prestigious title in all of the town of Cheesebridge. The highest honor that any man could be rewarded for, usually by valor, chivalry, or general wealth. And the Boss, from the time he was a boy, and who also had to stand on the sidewalk with his neighbors and bow to them just like everyone else, dreamed to be as respected and in as such high regard as them. Running the town and fixing little social problems here and there were technically their primary objectives of the White Hats, but the benefit they had that the Boss had to admit he certainly liked just as much as they did, was trying the best cheeses and wines money could buy.

He longed for the day that he too would receive his hat and its benefits because of his unique services to the town: eliminating the Boxtrolls, the monsters that the Boss promoted as the destroyers of the Trubshaws and the general source of all their problems.

"Lock your windows and doors! Fathers, hide your cheese! Mothers, hide your children! Tonight is no night for bravery! Leave that to us!"

This message and variations of them were the typical speeches the Boss would scream into the streets most nights, warning the town to not only keep their belongings and themselves secure, but no matter what, never leave their house until the sun had risen up again, for Boxtrolls were nocturnal and were the most dangerous at night.

The Boss was quite proud of himself, and one could tell from the grin plastered on his face as he found himself at his correct destination, the Portley-Rind Mansion. The same Mayor who had promised him a prize as wonderful as a White Hat, lived here with his family, his wife the lovely Lady Portley-Rind, and their young daughter, two year old Winifred.

He straightened out his vest and pushed a few greasy hair strands behind his ear. He knocked on the large double doors of the mansion and waited for a minute or two; he couldn't really tell how long it had been until he'd heard a selection of locks being clicked open one by one.

In time, the doors did open, and there appeared in the doorway a unimpressed looking man, Cheshire, wearing black and white.

"Ah, yes..." He drawled uninterested. "His Lordship's been expecting you." "Why of course, he has," the Boss replied in his low rumbling tones. "I look forward to speaking with him." The snooty looking butler looked him up and down and reluctantly beckoned the man to follow him. The Boss smiled with his hands behind his back as he was led up the large stair case that sat at the very center of the foyer. That itself was not too dim and featured a couple of also large doors facing each other on both the left and right walls. Lights lined them and drew the Boss' eyes to the center stairs. His eyes slightly widened as he neared the center of all of the White Hats' meetings: the Tasting Room.

At the top of the stairs, there was one more pair of double doors that led into a comfortable room with a fire place, a table, three cushioned chairs, and, on the nights in which the White Hats would have their meetings, piles and piles of cheese on top of the rounded wooden surface they would surround and chat at. The Boss could practically sense them, but inwardly admitted that it was for the best that he really couldn't at that moment.

As much as he wanted to stay and marvel at his most favorite place in the town, he knew the butler was taking him to a different place; one not quite as interesting as the Tasting Room.

Cheshire led him towards the right of the Tasting Room, where they mostly passed by still life paintings of cheese, and marble busts of past Portley-Rinds and their fellow past White Hats. Cheshire looked back and could tell that the Boss was much more interested in the busts than the still life paintings. "Perhaps there will be a bust of me here someday," he thought to himself. He smiled in amusement to himself at the idea of young Winifred's children, grandchildren and so on having to look at him day in and day out in the form of a statue. 'The Obliterator of Boxtrolls' on a bust sounded quite nice to him.

Eventually, he and Cheshire stopped at yet another pair of doors. The butler warily knocked and pressed his ear to them. "Come in," a masculine voice from behind them said. Cheshire opened one of the doors and found a Sitting Room with three people already inside, His Lordship, His Ladyship, and Winifred. This little red haired girl was the first to see the butler.

"Cheshire," she spoke. Her parents noticed and looked up to greet him as well. "Hello, Miss Portley-Rind, Your Ladyship," the girl's mother returned his greeting with a nod. "Your Lordship?" Cheshire continued.

A man with flaming red hair, the same as his daughter's, had his back turned before Winifred had pointed Cheshire out to him. He turned, his mustache twitching as he analyzed what was behind him. His heart sank when he saw whom Cheshire was with. When the butler had taken a couple steps into the room to speak, the Boss followed, his presence now completely inside the room.

"He's here, sir."

Lord Portley-Rind turned annoyed and sighed.  
"Dearest, would you be so kind as to take Winifred and meet me in the Dining Hall in about...ten minutes? We shall finish our conversation later," his wife took a look behind her husband, widened her eyes in understanding, and nodded.

"Come, Winifred, darling, Father has some business to attend to," she said to Winnie nicely.  
"Daddy?" the little girl replied. "Just for a short while," her father replied nonchalantly.

Her Ladyship took Winnie into her arms and led her towards the door, but as she did, she remembered whom she was passing by, and tried to keep her weak composure before the unsettling man her butler was letting in.

"Why, Your Ladyship," the Boss said as he looked at her. "You and Young Miss Portley-Rind look lovelier every day." As he said this, little toddler Winnie looked at Mr. Snatcher and turned away from this crooked toothed man who came off as little unsettling to be around. Despite his status as 'the gentlemanly hero' of the town, all she saw was a pale ill-proportioned man with lanky looking limbs supporting a strangely round, protruding middle, and a demeanor that bothered her as he glanced up at her with his gray, colorless eyes. She didn't know the word for it at the time, but if she did, she would have described him as 'condescending', at least towards her anyway. "Well, thank you," Her Ladyship replied cautiously. "Excuse us."

Winifred had never been so happy to be removed from her family's own Sitting Room. "Stay right outside the door, will you, Cheshire?" His Lordship asked. "Of course, sir," the butler replied. He closed the door, leaving His Lordship and the Boss all by themselves.

"Mr. Snatcher, please have a seat." His guest seemed to notice his disinterested tone but regardless, he sat down across from him. "D'you know, Your Lordship, I caught two Boxtrolls last night? Difficult little things, they were. Running about plotting and scheming, the way they will. But those pests are no match for me and my men. I just know it won't be long before this good town of ours lives in a Boxtroll free world!" He had lifted his arms and spread them out an inch or two to emphasize. Mr. Snatcher always was the dramatic type.

His Lordship was silent, still looking subtly aggravated that he was present in his house, but then he remembered exactly why he was there to begin with. "Mr. Snatcher, do you know why I asked for you to come over for a talk?" The red clad man leaned back and tapped his fingers together, as if in thought as he replied. "To discuss business matters of course, not to mention how my end of our deal is progressing; it's all going wonderfully might I add." Lord Portley-Rind sighed. He looked at himself, his white apparel matching his white silk hat, which sat beside him. He straightened himself up.

"The latter is what I wish to discuss with you, Mr. Snatcher." The red clad man did the same, all with his untrustworthy smile still on his face. "I know we've talked about this time and time again, but I humbly ask that you ask for something different this time in return for your services." Mr. Snatcher chuckled at him. "Oh, sir, no I'm afraid I can't do that."

Lord Portley-Rind gave him a disagreeable look. "And why not? You're a thinking, capable man. Surely you can think of something else you might like besides a White Hat." "But a White Hat is a proper reward, sir. Anyone can ask for money or gems, or even cheese for their services, but I eliminate Boxtrolls, which is no easy task, My Lord. It requires so much planning, strategizing, and of course the bravery to even try and stand up to those creatures. Such a valiant service to our community deserves a reward equal to its dangers and difficulty."

"I don't suppose that happy feeling of a job well done is enough after you present the proof I've asked for?" asked the Mayor. The exterminator laughed. "Sounds nice, sir, but not very realistic. It just saddens me that you still try to back out of our deal, even after all this time." Lord Portley-Rind groaned as silently as he could. "I'm just trying to give you other options. Quite frankly, it's foolish of me to think that you would understand by now that...everyone has their place in this town where they fit best, wouldn't you at least agree with that? Some are White Hats who keep watch of the town, some are Red Hats such as yourself who exterminate vermin, and then of course you've got merchants, doctors, lawyers, maintenance specialists, and for God's sake, even children have their own responsibilities as they realize their own way. I hope you understand what I am trying to say."

Mr. Snatcher sat and listened, and yet he didn't at the same time. "True..." Lord Portley-Rind blinked. "Really?" He asked in a calm sort of disbelief. "Everyone in this town has a place...and my place is that of an influential man." His Lordship rolled his eyes. "Aren't you already?" His volume increased slightly. The Red Hat didn't seem as if he had expected this sudden change of tone. The two could feel the tension in the room. The only sound that could be heard was the flicker of the fireplace, producing on orange glow on both men amongst their dimly lit surroundings. "Every night you tell everyone to hide and lock their doors, to keep themselves and their loved ones safe from grotesque monsters. And everyone believes you because of your testimonies! I believe you! You have influence already! Isn't that enough?" Mr. Snatcher's calm smile slowly began to fade.

"But with a White Hat I can use my influence even more so, wouldn't you agree?" He asked, anger becoming visible on his face.

"DAMMIT, SNATCHER!"

Snatcher's fingers tensed up at the Mayor's outburst, the latter standing up to prove his point. "Don't you understand?! You don't belong with the White Hats! You are a Red Hat! You're trying to become something you're not! You will NOT earn my respect or the respect of my fellow White Hats this way!"

Mr. Snatcher scowled at this attempt at intimidation. "Well, sir," he too stood up and leaned forward, ready for just about anything. "I don't have much respect for those who don't follow through on their agreements. I shall destroy every Boxtroll and earn the hat that you promised...support or not," his tone was demeaning yet deadly.

The two men were silent for a minute; Lord Portley-Rind on the left and Mr. Snatcher on the right. "Don't you have anything good to say about your current situation? Surely you must find some satisfaction in your job? Friends? Even family?"

"Aah, there you go again, Your Lordship, and for your information, no, I'm not married...at the moment. However..." He stood straight up and stared off into a random distant spot on the wall.  
"...yes, I do have a great deal of satisfaction in my work. Crushing monsters one by one for what they've done and who they are; pests, of course. It's also quite gratifying, knowing the promise I hope is kept," as he said this last little sentence, he turned back to Lord Portley-Rind, his empty eyes pouring into him like a waterfall.

An echo of laughter rang through the halls; Winifred's very own. Whatever she and her Mother were doing, it must have been enjoyable. The Mayor's family appeared in his head for a moment. His volume slightly decreased.  
"Quite sad, don't you think so? Influence and possible success and no friends or family to share it with?" With one hand on his hip and the other dangling by his side, Mr. Snatcher was quiet for another moment or so. "I doubt there's harm in acquiring these in the order of my choosing. I was hoping you'd found that out by now that I prioritize my time quite differently than others." His Lordship sighed annoyingly. "There's no persuading you, is there?" His Lordship asked, standing up straight and tall. Mr. Snatcher smiled. "Not when it comes to agreements, sir."

More silence; His Lordship's cheeks flushed with anger at this man who clearly didn't belong.

"Very well then...I shall ask Cheshire to walk you out."

...

"Pompous twit."

This was the first thing Mr. Snatcher thought as he walked away from the Portley-Rind mansion. Commending himself on his ability to stand firm, he straightened himself up and took his familiar route back to his factory. "One day, he'll see things my way. They all will," he muttered to himself.

Passing by the Market Square, he took a notice at some of his fellow citizens. Some of them were the merchants, just as His Lordship had mentioned. Others were their customers and many of them were not alone. He only glanced as he saw mostly families consisting of one father, one mother, and one, two, sometimes even three children. And they all looked happy.

Despite everything they had to go through; always keeping an eye on each other, hoping and praying that a monster wouldn't disrupt their household, there was still some joy to gain living in a town filled with snobs. Mr. Snatcher didn't stop to chat, for he had other business to attend to.

"Gentlemen, why ain't I loved?"

Mr. Pickles, Mr. Trout, and Mr. Gristle surrounded him as they sat at their table. Originally discussing only certain details of his meeting with His Lordship, here comes Mr. Snatcher's strange question.

"How do you figure, Boss?" Mr. Trout asked.

"In all my years I've only been married once, years ago...and now here I am after all this time, realizing that I've yet to form anymore relationships beyond my work and goal for the future."

"Well...we like you, Boss!" Mr. Pickles said with a hopeful smile. Mr. Gristle said nothing. He only listened intently and processed it all in silence. Mr. Snatcher gave Mr. Pickles a look of annoyance. "I said 'loved' not 'liked', Mr. Pickles." Sensing his subtle tone of annoyance, the beanpole apologized and fell silent.

"What do all those current White Hats have in common, gentlemen?"

His three employees looked at each other.  
"They all meet at His Lordship's mansion at least once a week?" asked Mr. Pickles.  
"They get to eat cheese?" asked Mr. Trout  
"HAT!" Mr. Gristle finally spoke. Mr. Snatcher rolled his eyes.

"No, no!" He cried slamming a fist on the table.  
"...well, yes, they do. But they have something I surely don't, and won't have unless I do something."

"May we ask what that is, Boss?" Trout asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Families."

Pickles, Trout, and Gristle all released a collective 'oh'. "Are you feeling lonely, Boss?" Mr. Pickles asked concernedly. Mr. Snatcher scoffed. "Me? Archibald Snatcher lonely? Nonsense!" Trout and Pickles glanced at each other, their worried looks remaining on their faces. The longer they stared at him, the more determined and stressed their Boss seemed to be. "Mr. Trout, get out the wine, will you?" A frazzled Snatcher said. The hulking man lifted himself from his seat and walked towards the cupboard right by their table. Pulling out a full wine and four glasses, he cautiously poured the drink into each one. He handed the first one to Mr. Snatcher (because he knew better than to do otherwise), the second to Mr. Gristle, the third to Mr. Pickles, and the last to himself.

"Hmm..." he leaned back in his chair, kicked his feet up onto their table, and daintily shook the glass to mix the wine, sniffed it, and sipped it from his glass. His men watched him until he started drinking, and then they too brought their glasses to their lips. Their Boss seemed quite pleased with his drink, for he sighed and smiled quite peacefully. "A hint of apple and lime; quite fascinating. Ideal drink for settling nerves...now where was I?"

"All of the White Hats have families, Boss," Mr. Pickles gently pointed out.

"Ahh, yes, of course, now only great men can become White Hats. That much is certain, and it seems they all have the support of their wives and children, don't they? They respect all of their choices and stand behind them without question or fail. Perfect for building credibility with our fellow Cheesebridgians, wouldn't you agree?" "Yes, sir," replied Mr. Trout. Snatcher sipped a little more.

"Smashing wine, old chaps...Yes, great men need a loyal family, don't they? A committed wife and a child to live up to his legacy," He asked, as if thinking out loud.  
"Completely understandable, Boss," Pickles said. Mr. Snatcher tapped his chin as his mind processed his observations. He finished his wine. "Certainly something to think about, men." He pulled a watch out from his coat pocket and looked at it.  
"But we must continue this later, for..." He raised up from his chair triumphantly. "T'is time for the curfew!"

"EXTERMINATE!"


	2. Chapter 1

Free Pepper

Chapter 1

This has got to be the strangest town I've ever seen. A tall looming hill with all kinds of little houses all stacked on each other. Odd, if you ask me. Then again, no one asks me about much anyway, but maybe things will be different here. 'Cheesebridge', they call it. _'A Gouda Place to Live'_ , I would later read on a nearby poster. New town, new people, new life, and I'm nervous, yet a little excited. The first thing I saw coming into town wasn't really the poster. It was the town itself, piled up on a hill, and then a river; a cold, blue one that surrounded the town and stretched far off into the surrounding hills. They all looked nice though. Far different from the dingy slums and docks by the River Thames, and I should know. As I walked closer and closer into the town, I noticed the largest factory I'd ever seen. A behemoth topped with a gigantically tall red hat touched the river's shore and led me to the first street in the town: Curd's Way. Curds? As in 'Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey'? So is there a Spider Lane in this town too?

I didn't stop to find out. I started up the long cobblestone path that would take me into the town itself. The houses and businesses all looked situation next to each other and connected. Each building looked empty and closed for the night. The only lights around me came from the streetlights, the moon way up above, and the stars I could barely see. I followed a long winding sidewalk up towards the very top of the hill, curious to know what would be there.

 _"It's quiet,"_ I thought to myself. Except for the occasional dog bark, it was hard to hear anything. Not because of my ears but because there was literally nothing. A little breeze perhaps, but other than that, the town was still and quiet. Soon enough, I did indeed find the poster promoting Cheesebridge. I stopped and stared at it for awhile. I knew literally nothing about this town, but I rose an eyebrow. "They must really like cheese," I whispered. As I followed the wall the poster was attached to, I noticed a couple more posters.

 _When the Curfew's Alive, Stay Inside_

 _Red Hats: Boxtroll Exterminators_

 _Beware the Sewers, for..._

" _'Here Be Monsters'_..." I finished reading. I then looked all around and warily stepped. "If there's a curfew, I oughta find someplace to go," I whispered. Surely there must be some sort of inn. I reached into my satchel and pulled out a few coins and several pound notes. Some of them were 10 pound notes, others were 15, even 20. I stuffed them back in and kept my eyes open for anything resembling a place to stay.

A blinking streetlight sat beside a building that made me stop and look at a two story building labeled, 'The Four Cheese Sons Hotel' in great big letters on top. I just had to smile. I looked both ways of the street and quickly walked across. I practically ran to it because of my long journey to find a new place. However, as I neared it, my smile faded and my pace slowed considerably. The door I found to the building had a nailed in sign that stopped her in her tracks.

CLOSED.

"Drat, even the inn? This curfew doesn't like me," I whispered. The building was as dark and empty looking as all the others. I turned back around and looked left, then right. Where am I going to sleep? What am I going to eat? I looked at my face in a nearby puddle. My long, deep red hair was all matted and my brown eyes were sagging with bags. I was so young, yet I knew what I was doing. "I'll find somewhere else and stay there, and then I'll come back in the morning." The breeze made me shiver, so I wrapped my arms around me, and rubbed as fast as I could. "Maybe there's a box I can sleep in somewhere...f-for now."

I walked towards the first alley I saw, past a florist shop, and heard something. I jumped and squeaked as I drew closer to that little slot between building where I could hide for now. The rustling sound I heard come with a couple of gargles and gurgles, as if two creatures who knew no English, were speaking and arguing. I found an entrance to my target, hid by the wall, and simple stared.

The alley was infested with even more unusual images; little creatures with pointed ears, blue-green, sometimes purple skin, bandaged feet, stubby fingers, and a box to cover everything else. All they seemed to be doing was searching through trash cans, looking for garbage. Why would they want to though? If it's in the trash, then obviously it can't be needed anymore, right? Even at my then young age of six, I just knew these had to be the Boxtrolls! The posters suggested that they were monsters, yet they didn't appear that way. _"They don't seem monstrous."_

I did see a couple of them fighting though. A tall Boxtroll with a fish on its box was being attacked (not violently though) by another one with a shoe on its own. They looked as if they were fighting over a thrown out clock. Again, what's so special about a thrown out clock? As I watched, I had found a large empty box turned on its front side to hide under, figuring that if they were mean, at least they won't see me. Wondering, who would win the fight, it was all suddenly cut short by yet another strange sound.

I remember back in London I used to hear the sounds of engines revving from real life motor cars. I heard they were going to be the next big thing, and it seemed as if Cheesebridge had them too. The creatures didn't seem to like them though because all too quickly they jumped in place and hid inside their boxes. I found it odd that as they hid, their boxes looked absolutely empty and normal. But even I knew better than to stay out in the open during troubling situations. I hid underneath my box but only peeked out so that I could see if it truly was one of those brand new motor cars. I peeped at it and was awfully confused. The car that pulled up into the alley way was enormous and box shaped. On one side of it, I saw a painting of a creature just like the ones I'd seen but with a big red cross running through it. One by one, men came down from the box car.

 _"Wow, men, real ones,"_ I thought.

The first man was tall and skinny (like me only I'm quite short). Even though his clothes were something of a chocolate brown, it was mismatched by a tall red top hat, and in his hands, he carried a net. He had a kindly face though. He wasn't super handsome, but it was soft in a nice way. The second man I saw was exactly the opposite of me; a big bulky man, yet with the tiniest bowler hat I'd ever seen. To me, he seemed like the sort of man who could beat a person up, but much like the first man, his face suggested a calm, gentle demeanor that wouldn't do so unless absolutely necessary. The third man on the other hand, was short like me, but his face seemed...what's a nice word for it...manic; as if anything was enough to set this man off into doing something one would find questionable. His eyes were really light, I realized; a very bright blue color that hid behind black round framed spectacles. His clothes were a dark bluish green, but much like the first two, he also had a tall red hat; not as tall as the first man's, and his even had a hole in it. Before I could question the hole in the third man's hat, a loud voice interrupted my thoughts.

"GENTLEMEN!"

I dropped my box over my body once I heard it. The call sounded deep and threatening; almost as if the voice was coming from a place different from the source's throat. I tipped my box open ever so slightly and found the fourth man.

It was hard to look away.

"Look at all these boxes left lying abouuuut. How curious, how peculiar. I do believe evil is afoot."

The hiss in his voice and the stressing of certain syllables made me shudder. The last of these red topped men filled me with an unfamiliar air of dread. While I know it's not right to judge someone by appearance alone, and I'm sorry if I sound judgmental, I have to be honest. I didn't have to look at him for very long to know that his appearance alone bothered me.

As the first three men searched through the other boxes, empty and otherwise, I started at this fourth man's feet and my eyes traveled up from there. His shoes were a brownish orange with a one (maybe two) centimeter heel and a pointed toe. Its gold stitching reminded me of hoity-toity business men from London. However, the first thing that separated the man from them was his trousers. They didn't even reach all the way to his ankles, like I thought they were suppose to. His ankles were bare and gray with soot (at least it looked like a sooty kind of gray). Three or four centimeters above his ankle was where his trousers began. His legs were thin, not as thin as mine, and they were covered with pants that almost looked like they were peeling. As I kept looking up, I realized why his trousers seemed a bit short on him: right above his thighs was a round, bulging stomach that, if anything, made him appear hunched over. Looking at his frame, I finally noticed that though he wore brown like the first two men, his hat was complimented by his red, velvet coat with a chestnut brown fur collar and more gold stitching that formed curved patterns. His ovular face was pretty pale, with crooked teeth, a pointed nose, long greasy strands of dark brown hair (most of which was pulled back by its ends with a hair tie), and a pair of gray eyes that suggested that he had probably seen a great deal of grown up things that I had never known. This mountain of a man was topped off by the tallest red hat I'd ever seen. He must have been very important. Where I came from, only important leaders would typically have velvet coats with fur and gold stitching, not to mention the tallest hat in his company. His voice, gestures, cold gaze towards the empty boxes, and reptilian appearance frightened me, and I didn't even know his name. _"Are all men like this?"_ I thought.

I ignored the conversation the first two of his men were having as I observed everything (something about feet, a bunion, and a grandma), but I did notice the short imp with the spectacles smack a few boxes with his rope gun. A couple even had those creatures in them. I watched the bulky man in the bowler hat take one while the first man with the net slammed down on it with his net. They're taking these trolls, I realized. And they all wear red hats? That's when it hit me.

The Boxtroll Exterminators.

"MR. GRISTLE, ACQUIRE THEM!" The creepy man pointed in her opposite direction and off went the man with the hole in his hat.

"Acquire...acquire! Ahaha! COME BACK AND LET ME HIT YOU!"

We both watched the manic Gristle run off after a couple of moving boxes the Leader must have noticed before I did. The latter turned his head and watched until the laughing man was out of sight and after the little monsters. With the leading Red Hat's head turned, now was probably the best time to find a better hiding place. I could hear the footsteps of the other men in the red hats. Two sets of taps and a set of clacking rang in my ears as I slowly but quietly crawled through the garbage, with one hand clutching my bag to keep it from making a noise from dragging along the ground. I just had to get away from those first two men, (the friendly looking ones), and their intimidating Leader.


	3. Chapter 2

Free Pepper

Chapter 2

I woke up the following morning inside an empty barrel right by the hotel. Gleams of sunlight came in through the lid that thankfully had a hole in it so I wouldn't suffocate. I did wake up with a drops of sweat running down my face and chest. The moment my eyes opened, I looked around, remembered where I was, and pushed the lid off the surface. I pulled myself up and popped my head out.

Cheesebridge had drastically changed from the night before. The buildings and sidewalks glistened with sunlight with shade coming from the various structures of the town. A few men and women and even some children were out in the streets. A few were couples walked by speaking to each other as they passed by her. The children played with jump ropes and Hopskotch; they even looked around my age. With the peaceful, happy people and the much prettier looking structures around me, the town I found last night seemed much more bright, beautiful world than I'd ever imagined. Putting my feet on the ground, I straightened my button down shirt, pulled down my shorts, and tugged on my bag to make sure it was still there. I brushed the dust off me and straightened up. I watched the children, two boys and three girls, play a little more before I approached them.

"Umm...excuse me?"

When they looked at me, I realized how different I appeared from them. The girls had ringlets and bows in their hair, and sported pretty dresses with fabric made flowers at their waists and closed toed buckled shoes. The boys looked refined in their clean button down shirts and trousers, and combed hair. And then there was me with my long auburn hair all dirty and limp, my smudgy boys' button down shirt, and jockey shorts. I didn't even have shoes with buckles like the girls (maybe that was why I kept glancing at them).

"Pardon me, but why are you wearing boys' clothes?" one brunette girl in a blue dress asked.  
"And, I say, your feet are bare!" a handsome sandy blonde-redhead boy in light green asked.  
"Are those jockey shorts?" a shrill blonde girl in yellow asked. I backed away for a minute as I bit my lip.  
"I'm afraid I don't have shoes, and..." I looked down at myself. "...this is all I have for clothes."  
"What a shame!" a smart sounding blonde boy in light brown said.  
"Can't your parents buy you clothes?" a girl in a lavender dress with black hair and a necklace asked.

I frowned.

"No...I don't even know where they are." The children looked at each other.  
"Oh, you must be one of those children from the orphanage on Cheddar Crescent, yes?" the shrill blonde asked.  
"...I didn't even know there was one." The children looked a little shocked and whispered to each other. "You're not a street urchin, are you?" the handsome redhead said. I felt a little tingly inside. They reminded me a little of the wealthy children in London. "If they're anything like them, they'll think I'm simply ghastly."

"Well...I-"  
"Because if you are, that just can't be!" the handsome redhead continued. He took a step towards me, and I blushed a little. "No one can live on the streets in this town!"  
"H-how come?" I asked. "Is it because of the Boxtrolls?"

The shrilly blonde girl hissed and held her hands back with a look of disgust on her face. It was actually a little humorous. "Ugh! Yes! Those monsters!"  
"I heard one last night from my bedroom window. I wonder if they took anyone last night. That ever happens again, this whole town'll fall down. I just know it!" replied the girl in lavender, now looking a very uneasy.  
"I don't think so...I mean if that had really happened...well...the Troll Man would've said something," the girl in blue said shyly.

This made me look at her. "Who?"  
"Archibald Snatcher, the Troll Man, you know," replied the redhead boy. "If he'd seen something, he'd have waken us all up this morning telling us all about it."  
That name...Archibald Snatcher?

"Does he have a red coat and hat?"  
"Yes, why do you ask?" the blonde boy asked. I looked at all of them. I felt a little thankful that we weren't talking about my clothes anymore, but their large eyes pouring into me, and my curiosity about the scary man I saw last night made me feel just as awkward.  
"I think I saw him last night and-"  
"Oh my! Did he see you?" the girl in yellow asked.  
"No..."  
"Oh good, I wouldn't dream of being out there with the Boxtrolls and Red Hats. Not since the Trubshaw Baby Incident. I don't know what I'd do!" replied the girl in lavender.

"Who's Trubshaw Baby?" I asked. The blonde boy stepped up. "The Trubshaw Baby was a little baby who was taken and eaten by Boxtrolls just last year. His father went after him, but he didn't survive either! Yesterday was the first anniversary. Awful sad, isn't it?" I stood there in silence for a minute.  
"So that's why the Boxtroll exterminators hunt them? Because of what they did?" The children looked at me funny. "Have you lived in Cheesebridge very long?" the blonde boy asked.

How do I respond?

"I came into town last night."

"Oh," they all replied.

"I'm James Goudman," the handsome redhead said almost immediately. I smiled at him. Even his name was nice, and he acted just the same. They all did. I shook his hand and the hands of the other children.

So there was Leona in her lavender dress, Bryan the blonde boy, Abigail the blonde girl in yellow, Skyla the brunette in blue, and of course, James...and then there was me, Pepper from London, who had been invited to play and no longer felt self conscious about my appearance. Of course that could have been mostly because Bryan had luckily lived close by, hurried home, and gave me a pair of his old boys' trousers to wear; not very feminine, but it would do for now. We gathered around in a circle and watched as Bryan set up a circle in a street corner where he, James and Abigail played 'Marbles'.

"So where do you live?" Skyla asked while Bryan counted his marbles.  
"Right other there," I pointed out the barrel I slept in last night.  
"There? Not very clean, don't you think?" Abigail had asked.  
"Well, I tried to get into the Inn last night, but it was closed and all dark," I replied.  
"Yes, but that's to be expected in this city," Bryan explained. "You should try the Cheddar Crescent Orphanage instead. The inn's expensive, and since you're...well..."  
"All alone?" I asked.  
"Well, that and a child like us, I'm sure they'd let you in."  
"My mother volunteers other there sometimes," Skyla mentioned. "The ladies who run it are very nice and they try their hardest to keep it clean."

I was silent for a minute. "I-I don't think so." And all of them looked at me like I was crazy.  
"And why not?" James asked. London came to mind.

 _You don' do nothin' right, ya lil yobbo!_

 _Get outta my shop, you lil' thief, 'n' don' come back!_

 _You wouldn't last a bally day out there, luv, 'n' that's just 'ow it is._

"Where I come from, a lonely kid isn't the best thing to be. Lots of the people there can't stand them...it's part of why I left." Skyla looked a little upset. "I'm sorry, Pepper."  
"No, no," I told her. "Don't feel bad for me. I'm glad I left. Being a traveler is fun." _"Most of the time..."_

"You're not going to stay?" Leona asked.  
"I'm not sure."  
"Well, if you do, hopefully you'll be glad to know that taking care of children is a big thing here in Cheesebridge. Ever since the Trubshaws died, we've gotten a curfew, Boxtroll lessons in school, lectures about what to do in emergencies, lots of things. Even the kids on Cheddar Crescent have a curfew and lessons too. Can't be left out of the loop, you know," James explained.  
"But I still don't know," I told him.  
"If I were you, I'd head to Cheddar Crescent as soon as we're done here. They'll give you a bed, a proper dress, and everything," Abigail said in a matter-of-fact kind of tone.

I know I'm sounding repetitive right now, but I just couldn't figure out what to do.

For the time being, my new friends took me all over Cheesebridge. They introduced me to the Market Square, which had all sorts of stands holding a variety of food and trinkets. Unbuttoning my bag, I pulled out a couple of one pound notes and bought a snack, a piece of Gouda. I bought another one, a block of it, and had the seller at the stand wrap it up for me to enjoy later. Abigail and Leona must have been well off too because they had a bit of money with them too. I couldn't help but notice a few people looking at me strangely. They must not have ever seen a girl wear boys' clothes' before; not to mention barefoot. Funny stares are nothing new for me though.

They showed me the largest mansion in the whole town, The Cheese Guild, the home of the mayor, Lord Portley-Rind and his little family and staff. I was used to parliaments and the queen living on the nicer side of my hometown, so a mayor topped with a White Hat and surrounded by fellow White Hats confused me a bit.  
"The White Hats are the blokes who fix all the problems 'round here that aren't about trolls. Troll jobs go to the Red Hats," James told me. "They also get to taste lots and lots of cheese."

"Why is this town so cheese centered, James?" I asked.  
"That's just how it's always been," he said.  
"I'm pretty sure it was founded on cheese. The cattle out in the pasture was all this whole place was at one point, but settlers from London wanted to start anew and used the cattle to start a cheese business. One thing led to another, and now we've got a town," Bryan replied. "At least I think that's how it happened."

Walking down Cheddar Crescent, Skyla pointed out the orphanage to me on the way down. It seemed alright, just this little building with a couple of ladies and a cluster of children (most of them looked a little older than me) playing on its stoop. They looked happy enough, but all I could do was frown.

 _She's a problem child, she is!_

 _I'll be surprised if anyone claims her; she's so shy._

 _All she does is run around the docks. Ungrateful girl causin' trouble, no doubt._

I did my best to ignore the quaint little building.

It was hard to see my friends leave. We eventually found ourselves back at the Inn and played Hopscotch until their parents came by to tell them to come home with them. They too gave me strange looks when my friends pointed them out to me. Little whispers and the occasional glance at me made me take a step back and a courteously nod. With each disappearing friend, their parents pulled them from me, take another look, and scurry away. My lips wouldn't stop frowning, for some of the people here reminded me far too much of where I'd been before. Surely not everywhere I go will be filled with people like this. But then again, looking at myself in my dirty boys' clothes and lack of shoes, should I blame them? Does every town insist on giving ill dressed folks dissatisfied looks?

If so, I'll know exactly what to do.

Bryan was the last to leave, his parents giving me the funniest look out of all of them. Were they noticing his trousers on me? Maybe so...and I wish I hadn't cared. All alone again, I marched straight into the Four Cheese Sons Hotel. I shall have my own room, find my own way, and I didn't care what anyone thought. People won't look at me funny anymore soon enough.

The inside of the Inn was actually quite lovely. Wooden furniture with plush cushions for a Sitting Room, a chandelier up above to give it style, marble squares in the floor, and a Check-In table run by a snobby looking man in a black curled mustache. I took a deep breath, pulled down my shirt, pulled up my pants, and swiped the dust away from my person. I walked elegantly towards the table and cleared my throat. "Pardon me, sir?" I asked in a mannerly way.

He looked over the counter but I could tell he was surprised to see someone so young and so short approach him, so he leaned over to look at me. "Yes...Miss?" he seemed to notice my wardrobe and lifted an eyebrow. I opened my bag and pulled out my multiple pound notes. "I'd like a room, please."

The man looked at me, my money, and then left and right.

"Are your parents about?" he asked curiously. I sighed.  
"Actually no...I'm alone for now, but I can handle it."  
"I can't give a child a room key without a parent or guardian," he replied dryly.  
"But I don't have those things. I have the money for it though," I defended.  
"I'm afraid it doesn't matter," his tone hardened. He looked at me and I had a feeling I knew what was coming.  
"Where are you from?" he asked.  
"London, England, sir."  
"Hmm...you sound like it."

What's that supposed to mean?

"Now where'd you get this money, child?" he stared at it as he asked. He wasn't already jumping to conclusions, was he?  
"I earned it. I got it before I left home because I'm a traveler, sir," I replied. He gave me a look of disbelief.  
"How old are you?" he asked.  
"Six and a half," I replied. That, he seemed to believe. But soon enough he gave me a look that had a mix of snobbery and frustration.  
"You earned this? How could girl as young as you have worked so much that you're getting this! How d'I know you didn't steal it?"  
"B-b-but I really didn't! It was given to me. I swear it!"  
"It certainly appears that way. This is a proper hotel, not a boarding house, and certainly not an orphanage. There's one on Cheddar Crescent though."

 _"Again, that dumb old orphanage."_

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."  
"But, sir-"  
"We don't take suspicious ill-dressed children."  
"But I didn't do anything wrong!"

The man rang a bell and soon came other members of the staff, I assumed, and came towards me. I pushed my money back into my bag.  
"Escort this little urchin out, will you?" A bulky looking man wearing orange wrapped his arms around and carried me away. I expected to collide with the hard pavement, but I was simply put down in the street, and watched the Inn's door close on my face.

I'm not going to that rotten orphanage; not after everything that happened in my hometown. If that meant retreating to my barrel, so be it. I tried dragging the barrel closer to the nearest alley way just in case. I certainly didn't want that hotheaded Inn Keeper yelling at me for anything else. They alleyway I found was pretty clear compared to last night, in which many of them were covered in boxes and trash. As the sky turned from blue to orange, I figured that this curfew would begin soon. Some of the businesses looked like they were closing and I could see people in the houses lock their windows and pull the curtains to shield the inside. The streets shifted from busy and thriving to empty and quiet. At least, with the exception of one sound:

"HEAR YE! HEAR YE! GOOD CITIZENS OF CHEESEBRIDGE! THE CURFEW IS ALIVE AND WELL! DON'T BE CAUGHT ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS!"

I practically jumped at that low oily voice that would no doubt haunt my dreams. I ran out of the alley but scampered back in the moment I saw the Box Truck from last night. The large man with the bowler seemed to be in the driver's seat steering a small wheel. The tall skinny man and the ice-blue eyed imp held onto the sides (most likely by handlebars). And there on the very top of the truck sat the Troll Man himself in a comfortable looking seat right beside a table holding what looked like a pot of tea and a tea cup and saucer. He held what seemed to be the speaker of a phonograph. Up above it was a little umbrella to cover his head and chair. I hid against the alley wall and watched them come up the street.

"FATHERS, HIDE YOUR CHEESE! MOTHERS, HIDE YOUR CHILDREN!" His voice made me shiver as they grew closer. As the Box Truck and I became parallel with each other, I could've sworn I saw the grays in his eyes hit me, causing me to slip drastically quickly, and further and further into the alley. He didn't see me, did he? I certainly hope not!

Forget worrying about where to sleep. I need to hide from the big bad Troll Man.

I camouflaged my barrel with a couple of trashcans and dashed inside it, making sure to cover the barrel with my lid. If it weren't for the holes they had, I don't how long I would have been able to stay inside. As I sat there in that enclosed space, I could hear grumbling outside. I looked through the barrel's hole and found more Boxtrolls searching through the trash. One of them, a tiny purple one wearing and actually holding an oil can looked as if he was examining an open door. It stared at it with while its little finger tapped its cheek, as if thinking intently. The little troll put a hand on the door and swung it back and forth quietly. As it squeaked, it would drip some oil into its hinges and sure enough, the door fell silent.

And these were the same trolls who killed a baby and his father?

The other trolls mostly minded their own business, looking through garbage and not harming anything or anyone. They did gurgle to each other over the objects they found. One troll with the words 'High Voltage' on its box and another wearing a box for spectacles chatted with each other about a set of bent forks and light bulbs they'd found. Even though I couldn't understand their 'troll speech' so to speak, their behavior suggested that they weren't necessarily monsters. They just seemed...alright.

I watched as the trolls froze in their tracks and look terrifyingly towards the other end of the alley. We all heard a strange clacking sound come closer and closer. As I rolled up my trousers when they frantically scattered out of the alley, the ominous sound just got louder and louder. Even I was getting a little fearful. I sat down in my barrel and stretched my legs out as I just sat there. I wiped some sweat from my brow as my heart beat quickened.

Clack, clack, clack

The escaping trolls and my increasing stress levels could only bring me to one conclusion. It had to be a Red Hat, so I hoped and prayed that it would at least by the friendly looking Red Hats with the net and bowler hat. There were two out of the four Red Hats I knew of and 50/50 wasn't too bad.

Clack, clack, clack

I bit my lips and caught a tear running from my eye. Wrapping my arms my knees, I brought the latter up to my chin and closed my eyes. And to make things worse, i was hungry. I silently opened my bag and unwrapped my leftover block of cheese. Nibbling like a mouse, I almost held my breath as I swallowed this town's most precious resource.

I didn't even realize the clacking footsteps had ceased.

BANG!

My world spun around as I chewed on tiny bits of Gouda. "EEK!" I cried, twirling about as the barrel lost balance and toppled over with a crash. My tears came back as I stayed perfectly still. I took several short breaths, praying, despite my dizziness, that they weren't too loud and whatever pushed the barrel over wouldn't try anything. As much as I would have loved to have been left there, my wish would never be granted, for within a minute of falling over, a frigid, elongated hand grabbed my arm and pulled me out. I was lowered to the floor, looked up, and backed away. I shuddered among the trash and nervously nibbled a little more of my cheese as my founder made eye contact with me. The first thing I dared to look at was his peeling trousers, his blood red coat and hat, and his large belly that almost blocked his face from my view before he bent over and revealed an initially surprised look that quickly turned into a gentlemanly smile.

Archibald Snatcher.


	4. Chapter 3

Free Pepper

Chapter 3

"What is this?"

His voice made me tremble.

Archibald Snatcher firstly reminded me of a giant; this tall, terrible figure who would much sooner step on me for taking his golden goose than have a cup of tea with me and talk about it. I tried to back away, but I was stopped in my tracks by the trash cans and barrel behind me. Every step he took, and every clack of his shoes made me tongue tied and graceless.  
"I-I-I…" I sat my cheese down on my lap as he rose his eyebrows at my careless stutter. His eyes confused me greatly. His face just seemed neutral. He didn't look angry, upset, or scarier than how he'd been the night before. "Hmm…" he began. "A child hiding from the Boxtrolls, no doubt." He rose back up to his feet and put a hand to his cheek. "But, no, that can't be. Children in this town know better than to be out of their beds past curfew." I looked all around me. My heart pounded faster the longer he looked at me. "W-w-well, it-it-it's just that-"

"Yesssss?"

My eyes widened and I froze at him. "I-I tried to get a place to stay, b-b-but the Inn wouldn't kicked me out. I-I came into town last night, and I didn't know what to do! I-" "Hush, hush," he replied in a soft yet sharp tone. "You want those filthy monsters to hear you?" I covered my mouth with a hand and shook my head. "Now," he continued. He tightened his necktie and took his hat off, revealing a bald spot surrounded by thinning hair, just as greased looking as the end tips I first saw last night. "You say you came in last night?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. He smiled, and it was absolutely diabolical. It reminded me of a sore winner after achieving victory at an intense game. "Well, then…" he drawled.

My insides turned and my heart ran wild at what he could've meant. "I'm afraid you came at a most inopportune time. No one is permitted to be out at this time of night lest something dreadful should happen." His stare turned serious and cold, like a parent subtly telling a child like me that she was in the wrong. "Very naughty, young lady," he spoke down towards me, waving his finger and 'tsk'ing with his tongue. "Now, if I may…" he offered his arm to me, causing me to flinch and block my body with my hands. I bowed my head as he chuckled at me.

"It's quite alright, my dear. Take ahold."

I glanced at his hand and found the dazzling rings on his fingers; a large one with a yellow topaz on one hand, and three smaller, but still smooth and impressive brown ones on the other hand. Maybe they were the reason I took it and allowed him to lift me up. Though my head was down, and I rubbed my neck nervously the way I often did, I kept my eyes on him, fearful that should I turn away, something worse might happen. It certainly didn't help that he kept his hand in mine.  
"B-b-but I didn't even know there was one until this morning." I tried to pull my hand away but his grip grew a little tighter. "It certainly seems that way," he drawled. He still smiled though and leaned forward. I almost couldn't control my gasp as I threw my head down and closed my eyes shut.

Please don't hurt me.

That cold, long hand I'd felt just moments before touched my head. I opened my eyes and looked up. I'm surprised he didn't seem to notice the sweat running down my face. Or maybe he did and just chose not to acknowledge it. "But I understand, Miss. I shan't hold it against you, lovely lady." I sighed a little too loudly. "Thank you, sir."

Wait a minute. Did he just call me 'lovely'?

"However…"

My lips parted. "I simply cannot allow someone so young and apparently so delightful to be left to fend for herself at this dangerous hour. I shall escort you to a safe place myself." "But, sir, I'm...I'm, I'm alone, sir. I travel, you see. I don't need a place...b-but thank you anyway," I stammered, silently lecturing myself for blabbering like a fool. I watched his face change as an eyebrow of his raised. I wrapped my arms around my frame and backed away a couple of steps, as I nodded my head and attempted a smile.  
"A traveler? Hmm...awful young, don't you suppose?" he asked in a calm tone of disbelief. I frantically shook my head. "Oh, w-well I wouldn't think so. I mean, traveling is a great way to live, sir. I-I don't need to worry about anything, except where I'll be going next," I tried to explain. I kept on my not-too-convincing grin, but his demeanor refused to change. He put a hand to his hip.  
"I don't quite agree, Miss. You belong in a family or an orphanage. Quite simple logic, none of this 'traveling' nonsense," he explained matter-of-factly.  
"It's just that...I was thinking that maybe I could-I don't know-keep traveling…perhaps I should go...I've taken too much of your time. And that of those Boxtrolls-" I turned to the side of him and took a couple of steps forward. Then, he blocked my way.

"Boxtrolls?" he asked with an air of ominous curiosity.  
"Y-yes...I saw some searching through some garbage...they looked...not too bad, I think...Anyway I wonder if...sir, are you alright?" The exterminator's face suddenly turned into a mixture of shock and fear. He stared for a minute or so, looking at me as if I had just said an extremely ugly word. His eyes traveled left and right as he stroked his necktie. His mind was turning. I could tell.

"'Not too bad'? Oh-ho deary, deary me, look what they've done," he uneasily chuckled. He almost hovered right over me, and I could feel the anxiety within me at each step. I tried to scurry away from him as I breathily shuddered.  
"Who?" I asked timidly. The man's eyes were awfully hard to read.  
"Those Boxtrolls have misled you, my dear!"  
"They...have?"  
"Of course they have! Those pests are, unfortunately, quite the tricky ones." he turned to the side and waved his hand in emphasis. As he talked, he sounded all the more confident. Soon enough, he was back to how he'd been before; intimidating and impossible to escape from. "Especially with their younger victims. But that's the way of monsters," he peered back at me. "...manipulating them before ultimately coming in for the kill."  
"The kill? Younger victims?" I wasn't sure why, but I stopped and listened intently, and he seemed happy about it.  
"Of course! They prefer children...not as strong and fast," he hissed all the while giving me a seemingly sombre look. It seemed all too real.

What if he's right? After all, he knows them better than I do.

"My dear?"

I flinched and nodded to him. He smirked.  
"Yes, sir?"

He lowered himself to one knee to be on my level and pulled me just a little closer to him. He looked at my hand and kept that awful smirk. "Now is no time for exchanging facts and stories. The monsters are crawling about everywhere and you seem to lack a place to turn to. Luckily for you, I'm feeling quite compassionate." He gestured towards himself rather dramatically. We locked eyes and were almost small, round nose to pointed, crooked nose. My heart almost ripped itself out of my chest at my space being invaded by such a man. "You don't have to do anything, sir…" I said with as I gave a little pull on my captive hand.

"I'm a gentleman, Miss. It is my duty to assist such a young, fragile lady. Poor thing, alone, naive, and in need of help." His grip tightened. "I know a place where you can find yourself some rest from all of your 'traveling' so to speak. An indestructible fortress where the monsters wouldn't dream to tread. It would be an honor to prevent another unfortunate monstrous incident to befall the one who least deserves it."  
"But I don't know you," I almost whispered.  
"Better to be assisted by a great man than mauled to death by a pest."

I took a deep breath.

"I-I it-it just doesn't seem right...is this even...proper?"

The man leaned back, widened his own eyes, and put a hand to his chest. "Why, my lady, you're not suggesting that a respectable man would even dream of doing anything 'improper' to one such as yourself, are you?" His face was very sly and his breath was hot and reminded me of the trash around me. I held my free hand to right below my chin to pinch my nose, but that last comment he made completely pulled that thought out of my mind; so much so, I could control my gasp towards it.

"N-n-no, no, forgive me, sir, please! I'm-I'm a little confused, I guess…" I looked down ashamed. I think he could tell by my frazzled approach to he tried to tell me. "Mmm...you're tired and in a strange place. It's hard to think straight in such a state." He tilted my chin so that I could look at him. He gave me a sorry looking lip quiver. It looked not-so-much fake, as it was theatrically sympathetic, but it quickly faded as he pointed to himself once again. "You should be lucky that such an esteemed man has offered to go out of his way to give so much to you. Now stop acting foolishly and come. I have a great deal of work to do, and the creatures are about." His eyes narrowed at me. "The choice is yours, Miss. A warm, indestructible fortress or a cold, monstrous night alone?" Though his tone sounded understanding, he pierced me with his intense gray eyed gaze complete with a crooked toothed smile. I quivered my lip and allowed my mind to process it all, searching for some sort of excuse, but he still seemed just far too strong for me. No excuse would be enough.

Something seemed so wrong about this. In London, I'd never once seen a girl as young as me be in the company of a man that wasn't a family member; very out of the ordinary, from what I've heard and seen. On one hand, I could bite him, throw the trashcans in his path, and hurry out of town, back into the hills surrounding it. But on the other hand, I was trapped. Large garbage cans and barrels behind me and a terrifying man in front of me; but though he appeared scary, to say the least, he knew so much. I could tell by the way he talked and emphasized his points. His gestures and knowledge surrounding these trolls suggested his legitimacy. I'd never been fond of being out in the cold all night. That, and being called 'lovely' didn't hurt that much either.

"I guess...one night wouldn't hurt." He grinned at me, put my hand on his arm, and escorted me out of that alleyway. I could feel my head begin to spin, and my heart beat up my insides as my legs shivered no thanks to the cool, yet silent wind.

"My name's Pepper."

He looked at me, and with that strange looking smirk, the exterminator stopped, and kissed my hand. And though I couldn't understand why, my face tingled and turned pink, and the worst part was I didn't even know for sure why. The uncertainty, his means of persuasion, and now his germs on my hand made me feel woozy in the head. But I couldn't reject him now, even as the world, minus him strangely enough, vigorously spun around me.

"Mr. Archibald Snatcher, at your service."


	5. Chapter 4

Free Pepper

Chapter 4

I found myself in a world of blankets the following morning, waking up from a night that quickly turned into a blur. I rested on the bed, with my cheek stuck to my pillow as I tried to recollect what had happened. I was hiding in a barrel on the streets of Cheesebridge. But someone found me and convinced me to go with him. I was taken by a gentleman, who made me so scared and stressed, that my world went black as we approached a street corner.

"Miss?...Whatever's the matter?" He asked. My vision turned fuzzy, my heart almost ripped out of my chest and I fell to the ground, completely out cold.

He must have taken me here, yet here I was in this strange dark bedroom. I sat up in the bed and rubbed my eyes. The bed I laid in was full sized with one pillow, and a set of sheets arranged from thinnest to thickest. The thinnest sheets were a creamy white color but the comforter on top was a dark gray, almost black. A bed table sat beside the bed with one lamp and thankfully my bag. On the opposite wall facing the bed was a window with just as gray curtains. To both my left and right were doors, with the left one standing much closer to me than the right. A third door I noticed last was open and held random clothes on hangers, and sitting in the corner between the closet and the window was a cage; possibly a spare one for Boxtrolls.

I flipped over my covers and hopped out of bed. I hurried over to the window and pushed the curtains away to find that my room was in a very high up place. The river to my right I'd seen two nights before stretched along the land surrounding my room, and to the left was the town.

"Am I...in the factory?"

I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised. The factory was topped with a Red Hat, like him and his men. A meeting place if I'd ever seen one.

 _"Wait..."_ I thought. _"...who would live in a factory?"_ Somebody who can afford it, I supposed. I looked over at the left door by my bed. I curiously opened it and stared. It was a complete bathroom, and it seemed as if it hadn't been used in a real long time. It wasn't dirty or anything, just older. It was small but not cramped and at least when I tried every knob, the water ran. I stared at myself in the mirror over the sink and though I tried to smile, it would just melt into a frown seconds later, and I wished I knew why.

I checked my closet next. It was much smaller but I didn't mind that too much. All I had was my satchel and the clothes on my back anyway. I tried to smile again. "A washroom, and a closet, and a bed," I told myself. "Surely there's nothing wrong with that."

And yet, it felt wrong. Something about this whole situation seemed unbelievably bad. I got to thinking about the man who found me last night, Archibald Snatcher. I looked toward the last door in my room. It surely had to lead to him somehow, and my face flushed up an embarrassing pink color. That feeling one gets from making a drastic decision and then coming to regret it later, and I was feeling that to the point where I just had to dive back into bed. Maybe if I disguise myself with sheets, he won't find me, and forget all about me.

I wrapped myself in sheets as last night's conversation rang in my ears. I clutched them at his display of charm and his horrible smile that worried me so. As it played out in my mind, a thought came to my head.

 _"He really wanted me to come...,"_ I thought to myself. _"...just pushing and pushing. I tried to say 'no',"_ I quickly realized. _"So why can't I do even that..."_

There was a look in his eyes; it wouldn't have surprised me if he could turn from nice and calm to dark and monstrous in less than a second. Had he ever been used to being told 'no'? He didn't seem like it. If I had said that one little word in a firm, perhaps vicious tone, would Mr. Snatcher have done something bad? Would he have taken my things? Or drag me away without a choice? Will he...hurt me?

Maybe it was for the best that I allowed him to take me. I helped him stay happy, so at least he was nice, even as I fainted before him. Great job, Pepper; way to act all weak and timid in front of a man; a real one.

Even if it was Archibald Snatcher.

I sat up in my bed as another thought came to mind. "What did I just let him do?"

 _"Pepper, you're insane!"_ A voice inside me said. _"You have no idea what he's done to you! This man approached a young, defenseless girl, offered his hand to take her to a strange place that's not the police or any other kind of official service place, and managed to talk her into leaving with him."_

There's a word for something like that.

Am I judging him too harshly? Sure he looks like a bad man, but appearances aren't everything. Maybe if he finds me, I'll try to talk to him. Perhaps he is nice and he just doesn't show it the way others do. That very moment, I stopped and prayed that this was the case. But even after all of that praying, I still had that nagging feeling that something was wrong with this whole thing. What was so bad about leaving with an important gentleman anyway? He serves this town every night, according to my new friends. He searches for monsters from sundown to sunup, troll-napping them and destroying them for what they-

I stopped.

Napping? As in "taking something"? Taking trolls...and then me? I trembled in my bed, my eyes wide with horror. I've been kidnapped.

I shot up out of bed and scrambled to my feet. _"I've got to get out of here! My bag! Where's my bag?!"_ I searched all over the room. Luckily, I remembered finding it on my bed table, so I swiped it and approached the third door. Whatever was behind this door, I had to hold my breath and brace myself for it. I turned the knob and pushed it open.

I found a long straight hallway lit up by candles hanging on the wall. I took short breaths and ran as fast as I could down the long narrow way. The light at the end of the hall was brighter than all the others, and so I hoped and prayed my route to freedom would be there. Sprinting to the end of the hall, I found a platform with metallic railing that I almost fell over. Thankfully my feet stopped the moment I realized where I was going.

The hallway brought me to the very top of a set of stairs, which led to the largest room in the factory; a wide space complete with hanging cages, a generator most likely, a set of levers, and a little corner with a modest dining table, cabinets, a laundry line, and a potbelly stove.

I didn't bother to look around much, for I practically soared down the stairs. My eyes constantly traveled in search for yet another door, though the only good thing I could think of at this moment was how lucky I was to know that no one was around right then and there. I could finally hurry to the other end of the factory, rip open the door and run. I didn't think of where. Just run.

I touched the knob to the entrance of the factory, turned it, and nothing happened. I pulled and turned as strongly as I could but nothing could get my only means of escape open. Part of me felt ready to faint again, but I couldn't.

"Stay awake and get out! Stay awake and get out!" was all my voice had left to say. Sweat fell down my face at the thought of the worst coming to fruition. And it made me all the more determined to break the door down.

Clack, clack, clack...

I have to be the biggest crybaby in the world, because despite how hard I tried to rip the door apart, nothing worked. And all I could do was weep about how stupid I'd been.

Clack, clack, clack...

But I had to eye the door knob knowing that I couldn't look away. Was I missing something? Surely there must be a way to get this door open. My desire to stay free and alive made me study it intently. There had to be something.

"Miss."

But I had no time to figure out why it could've been. At the sound of a masculine voice, I spun around and quickly swiped my face with my arms. I didn't want him to see my tears.

"H-hello, sir."

Lacking his red hat, Mr. Snatcher watched me intently as he stepped down the stairs. His hand slid down the rail like a snake getting ready to snap down on a mouse. His other hand straightened his brown vest and necktie. The look on his face bothered me because he wasn't necessarily scowling, but he did give me a suspicious face. I took my hand off my door knob, put my hands behind my back, and gave him a teary eyed smile.

"What are you doing?"

"...Umm..."

He twirled down the bottom of the stairs and strutted towards me. I backed away but much like last night, something stopped me from behind; that infernal door.

"I was just walking myself out. I think I've overstayed my welcome." He towered over me like a skyscraper the nearer he came to me.

"Without a goodbye? Not very courteous," he replied, a sad, yet fake look plastered on his face. "You've-you've done so much for me already. And I'm sure you're a very busy man. You don't need a kid hanging around when you've got things to do." As I smiled, I bit my lip. He tapped his finger to his chin and turned towards the windows on the opposite wall, parallel to the stairs. "Hmm...how strange," he muttered as he pulled out a round gold watch from his inner coat pocket, clicked it open and glanced at it.

"The sun is still out. I have 4 hours before the pests show up..." He tucked the watch back into his coat and smiled at me. "I have plenty of time before then."

 _"Only 4 hours? How long was I asleep?"_

"B-but I don't-" I looked down and stared at my twiddling fingers. I locked my eyes on them and fell silent for a considerable amount of time. As I tried to figure out what to say, I stayed there until I felt something long and cold on my shoulders. "But aren't you hungry, Miss?" He lightly pushed me towards the stairs from behind. "You've had such a long two days, and it would be beneath me to let a lady go without." He must have felt me tremble because his fingers clutched my shoulders a little more tightly.

"But, sir, I-"  
"I insist!"

I closed my eyes shut and tried to think. But my thoughts were interrupted by a door opening. We both turned and my eyes widened as a man entered through the door I wanted desperately to go through. "Aah, Mr. Gristle, your timing is perfect!"

"Nice..."

The short imp was carrying a ring of keys in his hand as he smiled at Mr. Snatcher.

"M-Mr. Gristle?" I took a step towards him and the now unlocked door, but Mr. Snatcher placed his hand on my neck and collarbone region and held me back. The imp locked eyes at me and kept them there.

"This is the young lady I told you about, Miss Pepper. My lady, this is Mr. Gristle, my most trusted Red Hat!" His boss said. The manic little man smiled.

"SALT!"

I frowned at him over the most repetitive joke I've ever heard.

"No, I'm Pepper," I bluntly told him.

"Oh, t'is a joke, Miss. After you fell asleep and I put you to bed, I told him and the rest of my men all about you. There are no strangers here, my dear."

 _"Mr. Snatcher put me to bed last night?"_ I blushed a terrible shade of pink. "I-I see." He held my shoulders and continued to lead me towards the staircase, that unlocked door getting farther away with each agonizing inch.

Bite him! Slap him! Run! But where?

He led me to the steps and grasped my hand as I took the first one. "My dear, how would it be, if you would wash up and change? Be back down here in two hours, will you?" I tried to pull my hand away but his long fingers, despite how thin they were, kept it bound.

"I suppose I can," I softly replied. "You remember the way?" He asked. "I think so." "Remember," he said. "Two hours." "I will, sir," I returned. I warily climbed up the steps, feeling his gaze weigh upon my shoulders as I went. I looked back over one of my shoulders and saw Mr. Snatcher and Mr. Gristle together. It looked like the former was speaking to the latter about me; I could tell because Mr. Snatcher was gesturing towards me as he whispered to his underling. Worried that he might try something if he saw me watching, I ran down the hallway once I made it until I made it to my bedroom. I slammed and locked my door closed and searched all around me, and suddenly spotted my window.

Of course! My window! I hurried past the cage, right over to it, pushed on it, but nothing happened. Gasping, I found a keyhole onto the latch that kept the window closed and locked. That man locked almost everything.

I even bothered to look through to remind myself how high I was off the ground. My eyes practically bulged from my sockets at how far up I was. That man couldn't have put these rooms on the bottom floor close to my means of escape. I stared at my unmade bed and felt my skin tingle with grief. I couldn't let him see me cry, but being in this lonely locked bedroom where he couldn't catch me was better than being in the same place with him, in which he could. Another teardrop came and they just wouldn't stop. If only I was stronger. If only I was braver. Being smarter wouldn't be so bad either. I laid on my stomach, throwing my face into my pillow and just shedding a waterfall of tears. My bed dampened, all I could do was beat up and kick my pillows, scream and wail in agony, and yell at myself.

 _You're such a stupid girl._

 _How could you let a frightening man just take you like that?_

 _What if you're stuck with him forever?_

I rubbed my red puffy face and sniffed the hand I used, and as much as I hated to admit it, Mr. Snatcher was right. I hadn't had a proper bath in about two weeks during my greatly desired travels. I sighed and entered my bathroom.

Twisting the knobs of my bathtub, I found a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap, so I figured I'd use those. As the tub filled up with water, I looked at my skin while unbuttoning my shirt, and realized how sooty it was. I cringed at my appearance, but I wasn't sure why. Was it because I was putting my boys' clothes, rather than girls' clothes, on the bathroom counter? Am I embarrassed at being such a filthy, young girl while in his company? But why should I care? I couldn't stand that man, yet being so filthy around this gentleman of sorts at the same time made me feel self conscious.

The water felt pretty warm as I sunk inside it, and as much as I couldn't stand my situation, it felt rather nice. Watching my dirty blotches fall away from me gave me a strange sense of relief, not to mention a minute or two to think. Maybe if I try to explain to Mr. Snatcher how I feel and convince him that I won't say a word about what I know or have seen, he'll let me leave. He might even listen if I ask him NOT to escort me anywhere. I won't even use the 'K' word.


	6. Chapter 5

Free Pepper

Chapter 5

I stared at myself in the mirror. My two hours were almost up. I put on wearing a clean outfit from the closet. More boys' clothes, but they were a bit larger than the dirty ones I had before. The trousers were a dark brown and the shirt was a lighter brown with long sleeves. I had to use a belt to keep my pants up and because the loose shirt left the top of my chest bare, I kept lifting it, so that it was entirely covered. Again, why was I so self aware now? But I had no choice. I took a deep breath and unlocked my door. I'm on a death march, it seemed. Each step felt like I was walking on a high wire. One little mistake, and something awful will surely happen. The light at the end of the hallway would have been more welcomed if it was the afterlife. My weeks of traveling through the country has weakened me to the point where my life has come to an end from all the hard work and stress, crashing my body into nothing but dust. But no, it wasn't Heaven, and it wasn't Hell. Whether I should've been sad that it wasn't any of those or not was beyond me.

"There you are!"

My shoulders twitched involuntarily at that low, yet loud voice. I found myself at the end of the hall and there below me and over the railing was Mr. Snatcher. He stood up straight and tall, and seemed to have combed his hair and polished his rings. "Come on down. Don't be shy!" He beckoned me with his ring clad hand, and as much as I wanted to run or at the very least beg for mercy, I came down the stairs at a steady pace. I soon picked up a smell; an unmistakable aroma. My eyes traveled towards the table. I found a two plates on the table. I came to a slow stop and just stared at them. There was a smaller plate and a larger one, each with some sort of cooked meat, potatoes, and vegetables. Right by them were a teapot, two teacups, a cup of sugar with spoons, and a pair of saucers. How this was put together in two hours, I honestly didn't know, but I didn't care. It was real food, and I embraced the look and smell of it.

"My dear, I'm not getting any younger," his tone was a little sharper than before, and so I quickened my paced. I tapped down the steps one by one and all I could do was keep my eyes on them. Grasping the banister with all the life I had, I planted my feet firmly at the end of the stairs and took a breath. My lips dampened with drool, but the very idea of him seeing me with it made me wipe my lips vigorously. I turned my head away and ran my arm past my lips. My eyes glanced back and forth from the floor to my arm. My body trembled at what he might think if he saw me practically longing for what I found on that table.

His hand took my shoulder closest to him. My head spun around and I immediately threw my hand from my mouth, and straightened up. "Miss Pepper, please sit down," he gestured towards the table. "You must be hungry from such a long journey." He offered his arm again, and I really wished he hadn't. "Thank you. I am," I shakily told him. If I hadn't taken his arm, I didn't even know what he would have done, so I took it, and prayed that I wouldn't even faint again. The velvet texture in his jacket provided something for me to look at.

He pulled out the chair closest to the smaller plate, offered it as a seat and pushed it towards the table once I sat down. I stared at my feet, a little intrigued that they weren't even touching the floor. Though my chair was a simple rectangle, the chair right next to me, was much taller and elegantly carved with velvet, red cushions, oval shaped ears, a circular top rail also covered in velvet (most of it anyway), and to top it all off, velvet arm rests.

Everything about this strange man seemed so important; his clothes, his possessions, and even this factory he live in (odd as it was), he had to be awfully important if he had all of these things. But then I stopped. I had to remind myself that I was going to try and get away from him. _"Remember the game plan, Pepper."_

He sat in the nicer looking chair (I'm calling it The Boss Chair because it looked much fancier than the other plainer rectangular chairs) right next to me, and poured me a cup of tea. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Miss." Tucking a napkin into his shirt hiding underneath his vest, I glued my eyes onto my own plate of food. As I eyed it, I warily took my fork, stabbed my chunk of meat, and lifted it to my mouth. I sunk my teeth into the entire thing, and tried to pull on it. "Ahem."

Out of fear, I didn't look up at Mr. Snatcher, but I did freeze at the clearing of his throat. In the corner of my eye, I could see an offended look on his ovular face, so I dropped my fork and held my hands up in surrender. His face turned neutral again as he stayed completely still. I noticed when he finally injected his own meat with his fork, cut it delicately with his knife, and took a bite. I watched his knife and fork movements and noticed how daintily he ate the large portions on his plate. A minute or two of watching him must have notified him.

"Please, my dear. Start," he smiled, but I chose instead to focus on my food and imitate him. Cutting my beef with my knife, I took a bite with my fork and something inside me snapped. Each mouthful of beef just made me eat it faster and faster. I may have been in a strange place with a shady man, but real food is real food; plain and simple. As much as I couldn't say that this was the best dinner in the world, a lack of real food for an awfully long time made me feel desperate for a little while. Even the cooked vegetables, which I don't normally like, I just couldn't help but inhale.

"Miss Pepper," he chuckled at me, so I stopped almost instantly. "This isn't a race." I blushed a little bit and I hated it. "I'm sorry, sir. It's been a long time since I've had something like this. Th-thank you again, by the way." I could sense an amused smile on my face. "Well, I'm happy to be the one to satisfy your appetite." Something about the way he said that made me squirm, but it reminded me all the more of my task at hand. After a few more minutes of nothing but the two of us enjoying dinner, I finally decided on the best thing to start out my means of an exit with.

"Mr. Snatcher?"  
"Yes?"  
"Umm...thank you for the bed too. It was nice."  
"Oh, you're quite welcome. I was hoping you would." His deep tones made me a little fearful, but I had to use a firm tone on my own. "I did. But it'll also be nice to get back on the road again." The man looked at me, but I refused to acknowledge him. "But why would you want to?" "Because I like it, sir." "Come now, Miss. You don't truly like this 'life on the road' so to speak? Wandering around through the rain, no home, not even a bed. As I said before, it's nonsense," he explained waving his free hand about.  
"Well, sir, it's better than before, and nothing can say it isn't," I replied defensively.  
He didn't seem too pleased with my response as he made a slightly annoyed voice. I turned frigid. "Hmm, please explain." "It-it-it doesn't matter, sir." My shoulders were tugged down by his stare. I sunk a little deeper into my chair, and pondered over why he would even care.

"Well," he resumed. "It certainly must if someone like you would go out of her way to run off and remain on her own. How old are you exactly, child?"  
"Six and a half, sir."  
"Six? My, my, so alone, so young; where did you come from?"  
"London."  
"Aah, yes, the Queen's city. Wonderful town," he replied in a matter of fact kind of tone. "Why would you leave such a place? And please," he took my cheek and tilted it up. But I wouldn't look at him. "...don't be afraid to look at me, young lady. If anyone is going to speak with me, I prefer eye contact," he sounded very condescending, but his weighing gaze had finally won, and so I met it with my own. There were a few moments of silence.  
"Well, I'm waiting..." he warned. He drank a bit of his tea. "Oh! Well, umm, I lived in London all the time. There's this great, big orphanage right by the Thames where I slept...only for girls actually. None of the girls there were used to being around men...I haven't talked to very many myself. Some of the ladies running it were kind of mean; they always thought I was getting into trouble...ugly old bats...only a couple of them really...I'd get blamed for stuff, so they didn't like me at all. The leader of the orphanage, Miss Andrews, she liked us though, but I guess it was because she owns the place. She was nice, I guess. I liked walking 'round the docks, and watching the sailors come in and out. People would look at me funny because...well...I was a lonely kid wandering around, I don't know...some of the grownups, even some of their kids, would give me those looks. I'm a 'thief' and a 'yobbo', so they say. And it'd happen whenever I went to any place other than the docks."

"Are you a thief?" Mr. Snatcher asked curiously, his eyes glued on me with a suspicious gleam in them.  
"No!" I widened my eyes at my outburst. "S-sorry..."  
His eyes were hard to read. Was he angry? Sad? It was hard to say. He was silent for a few seconds though. "Hmm...please continue."

"Well, I met an older girl who'd been pulling into the pier with her parents one time, Genevieve, and we did lots of things together. She's a super wealthy Spaniard too! People liked her, and she'd stick up for me when they'd see me coming. She gave me lots of money so that I could pay for things. Not enough to afford a real dress and shoes...I've always wanted some of those..." I looked down as I thought about her.

"But, my dear, why did you leave?"  
"Because I was sick of everyone...Two weeks ago, I told Genevieve that I wanted to, so she gave me lots of money."  
"You? A little orphan like you has lots of money?" he asked with a curved eyebrow.  
"Well, I...yes, I do...and then I left."  
"Did you know where you were going?"  
"Not really...I knew I was going south though. I just wished they were nicer. They think I'm no one special, so I wanted to prove them wrong. I can make it on my own. I'll get my own dress and buckled shoes."

Even though he casually ate his food during this whole conversation, I could tell he was listening intently. His face was neutral, his eyes were stuck on me, and as much as I hated to admit it, the more I explained my story, the more comfortable I felt discussing it. But why did it have to be Archibald Snatcher?

He rubbed his lips with his napkin. He placed it on his plate and leaned back as I observed it; that was an awful lot of food, but who am I to judge? He cleared his throat, and it became clear to me that it was my turn to eat, and his turn to talk.

"My dear, I'm afraid you are quite misled."

I gave him an aggravated look. Again, why him? "Oh really?" As I ate the rest of my dinner, I let him continue. When I felt him put a hand on my shoulder, I stared at him as my spine tingled. "You're not the only one surrounded by dolts who don't understand. I know how you feel, Miss." I arched my eyebrows at him.  
"How?"  
He looked at his nails with a curled smile. "Well, for one thing, I long for so much more and far better, myself." "Really?" "Why, yes, now are you familiar with the White Hats in this town?" "Yes, I made some new friends yesterday who told me that they solve problems around the town." "Very true, Miss, but did they tell you what else they can do? White Hats are the elite gentlemen who taste cheese from far and wide. They all meet together in the Tasting Room at our..." he pulled on his necktie left and right rather subtly. "'beloved' Mayor's home. It is a highly respected position that I shall join soon enough."  
"Yeah, but how are you getting a White Hat?"

Mr. Snatcher's face changed. He smiled smugly and sipped some more of his tea. "By exterminating the Boxtrolls, of course. His Lordship and I have an agreement. Once every one of those lowly vermin is gone, I will take my place alongside the elite," he balled his hand into a fist, and stared at it ambitiously.  
"Are Boxtrolls really that bad?"

Mr. Snatcher looked at me annoyingly. "My dear girl, why don't you understand? Boxtrolls are grotesque pests. The bane of this town's existence." His annoyed look turned dark and his voice even lower than usual. I leaned back a little in my chair. He glanced at my fearful face. "Every night, those creatures think of nothing but how to bring this town to ruin." He leaned forward and used his hands to elaborate. "Stealing little girls and boys from their beds, dragging them down to their disgusting caves, gnawing on their bones, ripping their innards, and drinking their blood."

My eyes were wider than plates. _"He can't be serious."_

"And that's not even the worst part!"  
"It's not?" I whimpered.  
"Certainly not! Their sharp teeth are perfect for biting off your hands and knees and chewing off your feet."  
"But how can that-"  
"And when there's nothing left of you, they throw the rest of you into their mountains of bones and rivers of blood! And then they'll do it all over again. The crushing, the gnawing, the chopping of little hands!"

"STOP IT!"

I fell out of my chair and scurried under the table. I bowed, covered my eyes with my hands, and shuddered. As his legs and clunky shoes hovered over my head, I was just too upset and scared to give them any attention for the time being. When I did look up after a minute or two, I saw that his legs were cross-legged and the majority of his stomach laid there in his lap. I wiped my face of my tears with my hands and watched as he uncrossed his legs, pushed his chair back and stood up. Were those Boxtrolls really monsters, I wondered. His details were gruesome but it was hard to just disregard them. But I sincerely wished that I could.

"Please don't eat me," I whispered to myself.  
"Miss Pepper, come out," his voice called out.  
"I can't, sir," I replied.  
"And why not?"  
"I'm...well..."  
"Young lady, there's nothing to fear here. Now come out."

I hated his firm tone, but I knew I couldn't ignore him. I got on my hands and knees, crawled towards his side of the table, and lifted the table cloth.

"Here I am."

He smiled at me and offered his hand. I rubbed my nose and cheek. "Now, now, that's enough of that." He reached into another inner coat pocket of his, pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. I dried my face with it and gave it back to him. "I'm just trying to help you see the truth of the matter."

I stood up straight and tall and took a deep breath, but looked up at him when he started speaking again. "Now, I've spoken with our Mayor, Lord Portley-Rind, recently, and..." his look traveled back towards me, and a great sense of dread overwhelmed me. "I have realized something quite-" he leaned back in his chair as if thinking. "-obvious, but fascinating."

"And what thing might that be?" His smile looked awfully discomforting at this point. I wasn't quite sure how much more of this I can take. I nibbled on my lip as he took my hand. "Our current White Hats may think they're 'special' so to speak, but they have brought to my attention a key to their success that, for the longest time, I haven't considered. Behind them is a proper family. An obedient wife and children to make it all worth while." He walked me back to the table, turned the Boss Chair around, and sat there. I stood right before him, fearing the worst.

He wasn't suggesting what I thought he was suggesting, was he?

"And since I am a great man deserving of a prize as important as a White Hat, I certainly can't stand the possibility of lacking anything else important for any reason. Ever since my little talk with His Lordship, I've been thinking, and I suppose it is time to consider such things."

He wouldn't dare.

"Perhaps it is time to bring someone into this factory of mine whom I can home to every morning after another valiant night of purging the streets of those beasts. Someone I can provide for; maybe a dress and a pair of buckled shoes for a young girl who has no one and, if I may say so, nowhere to turn to. A daughter, it is turning out to be, because I choose you. Congratulations."

I have to get out of this town.

Taking a couple of steps back, I tried to say something, but nothing could come out. I just had to say something. I cringed at being right in front of him again, but I had to be firm with him. "Sir, I don't think that I'd be a good...'daughter' I guess. I have a lot of places to go and people to meet. It would be better if I moved onto the next town. Those Boxtrolls won't find me there. Th-thank you for all of this again. But I need to go. I can take of myself."

His smile faded, and I felt butterflies in me. Not the good kind I feel around people I really like (James came to mind and I missed him terribly), but the bad kind that tells me that something terrible is happening. He didn't look angry or sad. He appeared neutral again. Mr. Snatcher stood back up to full height, again towering over me, and making me back away a couple more steps.

"Very well."  
I sighed in relief and looked towards the steps. "I need to go upstairs and get my bag. I'd like to get on the road before the trolls come out."  
"Of course."

I tried to convince him not to go up with me but he insisted on walking me up the stairs and then out the door anyway. As we climbed up the stairs together, I kept my head turned away from him. I could sense his disappointment. He was unhappy, but at least he was understanding.

"You know, Miss, I have to admit. You're not like most young ladies I've ever seen. Giggling, silly little things waiting for the day a man comes to court them."  
"I guess I'm just different."  
"I quite agree." He smiled humorously and chuckled after a moment or two.  
"What's so funny, sir?"  
"Despite the circumstances in which I found you, I think you are very amusing."  
"Me?"  
"You. That little image of a child sitting in an alley nibbling cheese like a mouse." The man snickered with a hand to his lips. "I'd never seen anything so pitiful yet humorous at the same time!"  
I smiled. Doing that towards him surprised me. Maybe if I leave Mr. Snatcher in good spirits, it'll help me get out of here quicker.  
"You're not the only one who thinks so, sir. Some of the girls and the grownups in my orphanage too called me that! I nibble my food a lot. I was hiding in garbage anyway, just like real ones!" I exclaimed.  
"Aha!" He pointed at me dramatically. I leaned away from him but I still smiled. And it felt real. "Just as I suspected!" He continued as we entered the hallway together. "A little mouse scurrying about the trash...are cats a problem for you?" he asked with a sly look, but I felt a little clueless. But then I bursted.

"Oh, ho! Yes!"

He and I just laughed and laughed. Tears of joy ran down my face as Mr. Snatcher took my hand and pulled me towards my room. I looked up at him and amidst the laughter, he dabbed his teary eyes with his handkerchief. As we walked and cackled, I took a mental note of his subtly shaking belly and mouth wide open revealing gnarly teeth and various gaps between them. I looked down at the floor and closed my eyes. Chortling at my situation, I could feel freedom coming so close, I practically felt it reaching towards my hands. I just had to grab my satchel, thank him one last time, and I'll surely be out of town before the Boxtrolls emerge to run amuck.

However, as we enjoyed our funny jokes and comparisons, there was also quite a bit of our moment I didn't take mental notes of. For one, I didn't respond to him taking me into both of his arms, or the clicking and clacking I heard. And before I could calm down and ask him why, I could feel myself falling and hitting something cold, and thin, then flat and metallic.

I fell then and there and let my cheek hit that flat, thin sheet of metal. I opened my eyes, and I panicked. The world around me had been turned into a pattern of thin bars that all supported a thick square also held together by bars. I shot straight up and found that they were all arranged to form an enclosed space; a cage. Breathing short breaths, I sat on my knees and planted my hands on that square; the ceiling of the cell. And as much as I couldn't stand it, I looked to the direction of more clicking, and there hovering over me from right outside my prison was Mr. Snatcher, using his own ring of keys to lock the latch on top shut.

"S-s-sir, I-" Even as he finished sealing me in and tucked his keys away into his coat, he stayed leaning forward. "Now look what you made me do, Miss Pepper."  
I widened my eyes. "Please, sir, you said-" "I said that I had chosen you to be my daughter of sorts. I offer my home, my food, even my spare room to you, and what do you do?" His smile evaporated. All I could see was the worst frown I'd ever seen in my life. A twisted, disgusting thing that I should've seen coming from a mile away. "You reject my offer." His voice was a horrifying rumble, the kind that reminded me of the low thunder that preceded the frighteningly loud ones. "And I simply can't have that." I grasped the bars and tried my hardest to bite back my new tears, now shocked and betrayed from this trap. "But I have to leave, sir. Mr. Snatcher, please!"

"Silence!" His snarl at me made me back away. "I don't want to hear anymore of this 'wandering around the world' nonsense. Your place is in a proper home like everyone else. You need one, and I need credibility with my fellow esteemed gentlemen. But before I can have that, I must have loyalty; a child I could claim for myself it now seems, who will assist me in bringing our current White Hats to the understanding that I am perfectly capable of having the support every great man would like to have as he leaves his imprint on the world." He looked up to the ceiling as if looking into his idealized future, spreading his arm out to elaborate, but soon enough, he looked at me threateningly again. "And in return for such a kind offer of a roof, a place to sleep, and food to eat no less, she would be willing to do every single thing I ask of her. Every. Single. Thing. To do otherwise is the behavior of pests, and I certainly can't stand those grimy little things. That is why I keep them in cages." His eyes were venomous and deadly, nothing as they'd been before. Though I shook my head, part of me knew that it was all in vain.

"The idea that a timid, weak little creature like you could just waltz around living on the works of nature and important men, most of all; it's, it's laughable!" He pointed at me, jabbing his finger into my chest as he told me these things. A few strands of hair had fallen into his face, his monstrous face that made me wish this was all just a nightmare in which I could wake up anytime now.

He rose up to full height, and my tears finally won over, and each of them promptly fell down my cheeks. "You agreed though..." He gave me a scowl. "I understood that you had to leave, but I certainly wasn't about to let you. Allow a moment to acquire one more thing I need to solidify my grand future to just waltz out the door? Outrageous. Now..." He straightened his coat and vest and pushed his hair strands back behind his ear, at which I finally cared to notice that his own face was adorned with sideburns; not that, that made anything better. "Do we have an understanding, Miss Pepper?"

"I-I-I understand, Mr. Snatcher. I'll-I'll do it. I'll stay." _"Anything to get me out of this cage,"_ I thought. He gave me a judgmental glance. "Oh, no, no, that won't do at all, my dear. You clearly need more time to think it over," he readjusted his cuffs at the end of his coat sleeves. "I shall give you 24 hours right here in this convenient little box to think over my proposition." He looked over his pocket watch. "It is currently a quarter to 8. My men'll be expecting me. I will come back to check on you tomorrow at this very time," with a click of his heels and his watch back in his pocket, he bowed gentlemanly, suddenly acting as if everything was alright.

"Have a nice night, Miss Pepper."


	7. Chapter 6

Free Pepper

Chapter 6

I hate him. I hate him so much.

I told him that many times. As he turned around and locked my bedroom door, I told him I hated him. As he walked down the hallway, I rose my volume to say that I hated him. And even as he rode off into the night on his truck, shouting "Hear Ye! Hear Ye!", I yelled at him, so that he'd know how much I hated him.

With time, my voice grew hoarse and my cries resulted in little else but coughs, and as I banged on the bars with my fists, they too began to wear out with its repetitive patterns. Cling, cling, cling rang in my ears like bells, the worst ones I'd ever heard. One of the edges of the cage's floor, the side I'd been attacking, was damp with hot, angry tears. I no longer cared that I was a crybaby. I had every right to be at the moment. Why can't I be stronger, or braver, or smarter anyway? I clenched my bruised fists and tore my lip open with my teeth. I could sense the iron taste of blood on my tongue, and though it hurt a little, I didn't flinch anymore. But my fists and lips weren't enough. My eyes were stuck shut as I tried to think of something else to do. And I found something to do. I couldn't get out; the latch was locked shut, and the anger and hatred of him slowly turned into anger and regret towards me, so I slapped me hard.

The palm of my hand made contact with my cheek because I deserved it. The sting wasn't too bad, for I was never all that strong to begin with, but I kept hitting myself with my hand. Slap, slap, slap went my palm to an increasingly red welt on my face. I felt I was too stupid to go without it. I deserved it. I didn't bite, slap, or kick him away from me. I didn't care that I was only six years old. I should have done something before he could catch me in his mousetrap. Multiple hits on my reddened cheeks felt appropriate, so I stopped after awhile and laid there on the floor of the cage and contemplated this world I'd been thrown into.

With each passing hour, I realized that the hardened cell was too cold and hard for me to sleep, so all I did was lay there and think. I didn't judge him too harshly at all. My instincts were right, but did I really listen? No, or I would be in the next town by now; perhaps at the English Channel. I really will be stuck with him forever, will I? I want to believe that there is still a way out. I desired nothing more than to rip my bars apart, smash the window, tie my sheets together and run as far as possible. I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to Leona, Bryan, Skyla, Abigail, and James, but maybe I can write them a letter, explaining my dilemma to them, and then one day several years from now, when I'm too grown up to be recognized by Mr. Snatcher, I can come back and apologize to them for leaving without a goodbye. But now that I'm here in this prison, who knows when's the next time I'll ever talk to them? They were the only good things about this town and I might not have a choice in even seeing them again. My scratchy voice fell silent, and my hands took hold of my bars and I dropped my head in shame. And for the longest time, I stayed in that solemn position. My insides were in pain from the screaming, and attacks on my person. And the more I thought about them, the more I thought of that horrible man's words.

He wants to keep me forever. All for this random hat that's supposed to make him even more important than he already is. Every day, I'd have to look at him; hear his hurtful tones remind me that I was to remain in this factory and make him look good in the eyes of these White topped men. And all I could do was hope and pray that he would be at the very least...what was a good way to say it...'not as mean' if I at least tried to do what he says and them see what happens from th-.

I stopped and allowed my jaw to drop. _"You're crazy, Pepper! You can't just stop trying to leave,"_ I scolded to myself. "But how can I?" I realized. Mr. Gristle and Mr. Snatcher have the keys from what I saw, and if that imp really is his most trusted Red Hat, then there won't be any convincing Mr. Gristle to do otherwise. And if the giant with the bowler hat and the beanpole are anywhere near as loyal, they won't listen to my begging for freedom either. The windows and doors would be secure and for all I knew, I was probably going to stay inside this horrid little box for a long time.

Or maybe he'll let me out for good behavior. If I promise to be good and listen, maybe he'll let me sleep in my own bed tomorrow night. Or maybe he'll admit that he doesn't trust me and just keep me in here like an animal. "Pepper, stop it!" I thought. _"Don't you dare start doing what that man says! You don't want him to win, do you?"_

But what if it's not about winning or losing? What's if it's all about trying to take freedom with dishonesty? He did it to me. Wouldn't it be something if I could do it too? _"But if you promise to be good, he'll probably ask you to do disgusting stuff! You don't want that!"_ Of course, I didn't! However, if I didn't make Mr. Snatcher happy, he'll never listen or do anything about what I have to say. I can try to be good and win him over, and then hopefully he'll at least let me go out and see Cheesebridge again. Then while we're out, I can make a speedy getaway for the next town.

 _"I might be wrong,"_ I thought. All this talk about dishonesty and listening to me, what if he has a point? He seems to know so much about the real world, and he does have a point...kind of. I was only six years old. Most children at that age are either in school because they have at least one parent to help them, or if they lacked even one like me, they're cooped up with other lonely children waiting for either one of two things to happen: the day a grownup comes to claim us, or the day we turn sixteen and are told to find our own way. And should that happen, there was always clearly something wrong with you. Sixteen years and no one came for you? Sixteen year old orphans usually had a rough time finding work, a spouse or even a proper job. Getting adopted however, meant that you had what it took to make it out there because you managed to impress someone enough to be chosen. At least, that's what people thought. I never really cared about these things...until now maybe. For all I knew, he's probably seen his own share of people falling short due to circumstances they couldn't control. _"Maybe he was one of them,"_ I thought.

I had ten more years until I'd have to put up with these problems. But still, I've been told that time can roll by pretty fast. I guess that was another good reason to get on the road. I could live a life of freedom and make my own choices...all alone...with my dirty clothes and body...no friends...not even a bed. Mr. Snatcher was right about that. He was right about a lot of things, wasn't he? Six year olds need to have a place to go. Even if it is a factory...no, that can't be right...I'm stuck here against my will. But if it weren't for him, sure I'd be by myself again, but what if something bad had happened on the road too? What if I'd hurt myself and I was still in town? A troll might have caught me...those bone gnashing creatures with their razor sharp teeth.

Mr. Snatcher didn't have razor sharp teeth. There were significant gaps sure, but he never tried to bite me or tear me to pieces. _"Yes, but he did cage you. Don't you forget that,"_ I thought to myself. Mr. Snatcher doesn't seem like to type who'd gnash and gnaw and add me to a river of blood or a mountain of bones. He did seem like the type who might eat me though, especially when he hovers over me and stares at me with those stone gray eyes. It wouldn't have surprised me if he'd told me that he could and would for such an 'ungrateful' attitude. And the worst part was that he might've been right.

If he had called me 'ungrateful', I wouldn't have agreed with him, but I was sure he would've made me think that I should have. Was I really ungrateful though? Is rejecting his proposal of an actual new home in exchange for loyalty a definite ungrateful attitude? I didn't want to care about what he said, but apart of me felt like I should have. Did I want to be ungrateful and uncaring towards a much more experienced man and his opinions? Surely he cared a little if he was offering them and much more to me.

I didn't think he had though, because deep down, I knew just as well as he that Mr. Snatcher had the upper hand. He wasn't the one in a cage tearing up over being stuck in a place he didn't want to be, yet he was also the man standing between the monsters and their plans to apparently destroy this town until it was nothing but rubble. If I'd known these words at the time, I'd have described him as heroic, if a little horrid, impressive, yet insane, daring and diabolical. And it was the adjectives 'heroic', 'impressive', and 'daring' that made me truly think about what he was asking for. The protector of this city, as frightening as he was, knew much better than I, as he offered me the life many orphans like me wanted.

This much was now true. Boxtrolls are monsters, a great man can't lack anything he needs, and six year old girls need what he was giving me because it's not good for kids to be alone all the time. At least I already had these things despite my imprisonment; a bed, food, even a washroom. And the most convenient part was that the man offering it all was the influential Troll Man.

I hated to admit it, but his opinion really did matter.

...

Hours rolled on by like snails on concrete, and I didn't sleep a single wink. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so silent and sleepless. Even as morning dawned, the sun producing an orange glow through the window, I tried to sleep, but my dreams never came and my eyes never stayed closed.

I could hear his footsteps clacking up the steps and down the hallway. I knew he wouldn't come for me. It hadn't even been 12 hours yet. Yawning from outside my door (whether it was intentional or not, I surely doubted it), his steps faded as he walked towards his own room. I figured he was off to retire for now, not that I'm surprised or anything. Thankfully my room and his were separated by a considerable distance so I didn't hear much of what he could have been doing. But still the time ticked away, and I felt my eyes grow tired, but I still couldn't fall away into the subconscious. I had to hear nothing else for several hours except for the occasional bird's chirp and the snippets of summer bugs outside.

I couldn't wait to get out of this cage. Mr. Snatcher wouldn't come in to see me for another few hours, and already I knew what I needed to say, and as I've always done, it would be the truth.

...

It was about 7:40 in the evening, a similar yellow-orange glow radiated my room, and though my eyes were droopy and tired from a lack of sleep, they stayed locked on my front door. Anytime now he'll be coming through and I will have my response for him. Amidst my weariness, my heart pumped like a drum at what he might say and do. It seems that no matter what dilemma I'm in with this man, my body ultimately flips over and out at whatever possibilities there may be as an outcome.

What's the best that could happen with the mindset that I shall be stuck here no matter how he reacts? He'd forgive me, treat me kindly from now on, and agree that me in a cage is also an outrageous idea and throw away the blasted box.

And what of the worst?

He'll refuse what I had to say, hurt me, and let me whither away to nothing but a pitiful, bony beast sitting in this cell for the rest of my days. As I laid there on the floor of the cell, I wrapped my arms around my pained stomach and could practically feel the bags under my eyes. My eyes turned misty at the idea of going any longer than I had to without food. With any luck, my day would end with a nap and a trip downstairs to the cabinets. Though I had no mirror, I felt hideous...parents don't like hideous kids. _"I wonder what it'll be like when he does get that White Hat...what if...what if he finds a better child...smarter, prettier than me..."_

 _"...will Mr. Snatcher kill me?"_

Clack, clack, clack...

I couldn't dwell on that for very long. Clacks and clicks caught me quickly. I sat up straight and tall and took a deep breath while my bedroom door was unlocked and pushed open, and in he came. After locking my door, not that I even had to think of why, he waltzed over to me, his steps wide and theatrical. He took off his red hat and held it behind him.

"Good evening." I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Evening, sir." "Hope you've had an exciting day," he said with a chuckle. I tried to smile but not much came of it. "It was hard to." "Yes, well..." He started again, but this time he leaned over and looked at me square in the eye. "It seems that someone is in need of sleep. Poor thing, so tired and upset. I certainly hope you've used your time to your advantage. I'd be more than happy to let you sleep right over there," he gestured over to my bed. "As long as, of course, another condition is met."

I nodded my head.  
"I-I'd like to stay with you, sir."  
"Oh really?"  
"Yes." He rose back up to full height with hands behind his back. "You accept my generous offer?" He gestured towards our surroundings. "You'll allow me to provide these humble accommodations for you in exchange for your loyalty and respect?"

"Yes, sir."

"I certainly hope you are being truthful, Miss Pepper."

"I am."

He smiled his usual gentlemanly smile, plucked his ring of keys out of his coat, and leaned over. My eyes traveled with his long cold hand towards the lock of the door. He took my cheek and made me look at him. "Marvelous...and another thing: don't move a muscle until I instruct you to do so." I froze but heard him unlock my cage door and open it. He snapped his fingers and my head immediately shot up to meet him. "I hope you understand that from now on, if I ask something of you, I expect it to be done." "I do." "And you shall be good, my dear?" "I'll be a very good girl."

"Good. Now..." He'd risen back up and beckoned me. I shakily stood up and marveled at the open pathway. He let me out and I had never been more ecstatic in my life. My tears were proof that I was not expecting this sudden jolt of joy, rather than fear. I willingly looked at him in the eyes and ran towards him. Wrapping my arms around his legs, I rested my head upon them with a grin. He had backed away a couple steps, with an annoyed grunt under his breath. I almost didn't care then. I looked up at him to say this, yet all I could see was his round gut, but I thought little of it, because I knew he was there and listening.

He was letting me out and I suddenly felt so much relief, this man I was so afraid of had given me a home, and any worries I may have had about the people in my life and their thoughts of me were momentarily forgotten. He plucked me from his legs and held me in his hands. "M-Mr. Snatcher, can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm fair enough, what is it?"  
"Umm...it-it's j-just...when you get your White Hat...or-or if you find another child...a better one...are you, will you...kill me?"

The silence was unbearable. I nibbled my bottom lip as he hummed in though. He curved a mischievous eyebrow at me, before smirking. It quickly turned into actual chuckling, which soon formed into genuine laughter. The more restless my nerves became, the more my eyes widened. He cupped my face with his frigid hand. "Don't be ridiculous, my dear. I couldn't possibly do away with you. You're still so very young, and in need of guidance. I, in turn, would prefer as much support as I can acquire. Unfortunately, without a proper man to assist your needs, who would possibly want anything to do with you? Or any orphan for that matter? You need me, Pepper."

I turned my head down, and stared at my hands. He tilted my chin, so that I may look at him. "I...guess so," I replied weakly. "And luckily-" he continued, gesturing to himself. "...I am a fair man. I have something you need and you're a misguided little thing with something _I_ need. It's simple logic, my child." "But, sir, do you need _me_?" I asked. "Would I keep you here if I didn't? And you'll surely have everything you've ever wanted, in return."

My lips were sealed for a minute. His humming made me think faster than usual.  
"You promise?"  
"I promise."  
"Mr. Snatcher, I'll do whatever you ask."  
"And I shall be holding you to that promise, little mouse."

My emotions welled up within me and without warning I embraced him once again with my cheek, now pale again from my lack of slaps, resting on his vest. While I felt quite peculiar putting my head there and feeling myself give way to sleep, I could sense some reluctance in him; I only see now that my presence was still so very foreign to a man as rough and gruff as him. He cleared his throat, took me by my underarm region and lowered me onto my bed.

"Now off to sleep with you. We shall talk more when I return," he'd cleared his throat as he said this. "Yes, sir," I only replied.

I sat in bed and pulled the sheets up to my lap as he straightened his necktie uneasily. I smiled at him as sincerely as possible, but he was occupied with adjusting his appearance, pushing strands of hair behind his side-burned ear, and sweeping his coat of any dust with his hands. And then he noticed that I was still looking at him. Though he was frowning at himself almost neutrally, he grinned again when he focused on me. He kissed my hand (I still felt those chills from last time), put his hat on his head and backed away dramatically, and in a tone that combined sincerity with a hint of creepiness, he made his exit.

"Goodnight, little mouse," he said as he shut my door and locked it.


	8. Chapter 7

Free Pepper

Chapter 7

I found myself outside at the entrance to a strange town. To its left was a tall tree decorated in pink flowers, matching perfectly with the beautiful blue sky above me, and it all reminded me of springtime. I neared the city, but before I could go in and look around, I tripped over what I assumed was a branch, and fell, but I couldn't feel any pain. I landed on my knees, and though they became dirty, it all still felt like nothing to me. As I sat there and simply stared (not really at anything), a shadowed engulfed me, and I turned around, only to find him, Mr. Snatcher beckoning me as he came nearer centimeter by centimeter.

"Pepper, it's time to go."

"I...I don't know if I should go with you." To where, I didn't know, but his large foreboding frame over me convinced me that I had no choice but to get up and follow. He took my arm and led me away from the brand new town. The farther we went, the tighter his grip became.

"M-M-Mr. Snatcher, you're hurting me..." In a moment I didn't expect, my hand snapped off.

...

My body involuntarily shot up, my hair and sweat falling over my face. I grabbed my wrist from which my hand fell, and thank God, it was still there. For the longest time, I stared at my wrists as I laid there in my bed. Eventually, I took a look all around me, breathing heavily. All I could see was darkness, with the faint gleam of the moon from my window. The gray sheets and curtains made the room look dreary and horror novel-esque. Perhaps I should ask him if he could take me to a furniture decor store in hopes of redecorating, I wondered. I figured there had to be at least one in Cheesebridge.

I rubbed my eyes and laid back down on the bed, and I tried to relax. Who knew when the sun would be out again? And for that matter, when the sun returns, so will Mr. Snatcher, and when he comes back, I could only imagine what what we might talk about the next time we see each other. Maybe, I thought, it won't be so scary. After all, it was just a dream. All I had to do is remind myself of this.

 _"It's just a dream, Pepper."_

...

Knock, knock, knock...

"Miss? Miss Pepper?" A kind little voice stirred me back into reality again. I couldn't recall anymore bad dreams I had, but as my eyes fluttered open, I leaned up and turned my head towards the sound; my front door. "Excuse me, Miss Pepper?" "Who is it?" I asked. "It's Mr. Pickles, Miss. I'm one of Mr. Snatcher's employees." Mr. Pickles...was that the beanpole? Or the giant? "Did you have a good night, Miss?" he asked in that same gentle tone. "I guess so, but I'm still in bed. You can come in if you'd like." "Are you sure? Are you modest?" "Modest?" "Are you wearing clothing, I mean." "Oh...yes." My door opened and revealed the tall, thin Red Hat with the soft face. Looking at him up close, I was surprised to find how truly differently he looked from Mr. Snatcher. Mr. Pickles may have been tall like him, but his head was smaller and appeared like an upside down cone. His eyes were a rich brown in contrast to Snatcher's cloudy gray ones. His nose was small and round like mine unlike the latter's large, pointed one. He seemed nice enough, and made me secretly wished that his appearance would match his personality. "Hello," I said with a weak smile. He returned it, and I knew right then and there that his was genuine. "Good morning," he replied, tipping his hat, and offering his hand. When I took it, I was amazed at its warmth, unlike Snatcher's cold ones. "I'm not in trouble, am I?" I asked as we shook hands. "Oh no, I don't think so. Mr. Snatcher didn't sound as if you were. He would like to see you though. He's asked that you wash up and meet him downstairs. He gave me his keys to unlock the door for you so you can come. There should be something for you to wear in the closet."  
"Alright, thank you." He smiled and left me there very soon after. I took back what I'd said about Cheesebridge the night before. There were two good things about this town now; my new friends and Mr. Pickles

I wasn't quite sure how patient Mr. Snatcher was, so I wasted no time hopping out of bed, drawing my bath, and picking something new to wear. I found a gray pair of trousers and a white button down to wear, and much like the clothes I slept in, they were a little big on me. Pulling a couple of toiletry items I'd brought with me from London and even found on my travels from my bag, I washed up from head to toe, and to be perfectly frank, it felt good being nice and clean again after a whole day of confinement. Bringing that little cell to my mind made my stomach back flip and my lips frown. "Maybe if I behave really nicely, I won't ever get stuck there again," I said to myself. "But what can I do? Except be good, I guess...but what else would he like though?"

It suddenly hit me that I wasn't quite sure how long I was up there. It felt like thirty minutes or so, and as a result, I stopped my thought process, readjusted my clothing, and opened my door. Each breath I took was deep and every ten seconds or so. A look of aggravation creased onto my face, and I hated it so much; not as much as I hated that man beforehand, but the hate was still evident. I figured it was just over how nervous I felt. Should I have been too surprised though? I honestly don't think so. After all, I was the one imprisoned last night. I shook my head. I couldn't think of that at the time. I had to keep walking.

I approached the railing at the end of the hallway, and found a cage hanging from a chain with a shaking box inside and four men sitting at the table downstairs. Mr. Snatcher sat in the Boss Chair and while the other three men sat around him in the plainer looking ones. Mr. Pickles was the first to see me, and sit up. The other three noticed his reaction and turned around accordingly. For a moment, I very quickly noticed a grouchy look on Mr. Snatcher's face, but it quickly turned supposedly nice again with a clearing of his throat.

"Good morning!" he said in a surprisingly chipper manner. He stood up from his chair, readjusted his necktie, and approached the foot of the steps. As he neared them, I supposed that was as good a time as any to respond to him. "Good morning, sir."

"I hope you slept well."  
"I did. Thank you." Coming down the steps, I practically flinched as he grasped my hand in his cold one. He didn't seem to respond, but the smile on his face tells me now that even if he had noticed, he wouldn't have cared.

 _Mr. Snatcher, you're hurting me._

My eyes widened but I shook my head to clear it,; whether he noticed that, I couldn't tell. _"I'm not in trouble,"_ I thought. _"I'm not in trouble."_ "Gentlemen!" he cried. My head turned up to his face as he positioned myself in front of him, his freezing hands keeping hold of my shoulders. After six years of living around girls and women, standing before not one, not two, not even three, but four real men made me feel...odd. Memories of sharing a bedroom, going to St. Paul's on Sundays, and being teased by some of those girls in my orphanage's front stoop, all under the supervision of Miss Andrews and her staff, flooded back.

I could barely comprehend what it would be like waking up to find four of them in this gigantic building every morning. I glanced up at Mr. Snatcher; Miss Andrews was firm but fair. This man was just...firm.

"This is the young lady I've told you all about; Miss Pepper of London, England! She'll be using the spare room upstairs as I've explained before. Mr. Trout, pull up a chair for her, will you?"

"Of course, Boss," the giant replied as he pushed his chair back to get up and pick a new one from the corner. From far away, this particular fellow seemed tough and hard to beat in a fight, with brawny arms, bulky hands, plus a damaged ear and crooked nose that looked pointed and broken. But from up close, his eyes seemed just as well meaning as Mr. Pickles'. Of course, if there had been one thing I'd learned those first two days, it was the importance of instincts, but I was only a kid then.

Mr. Snatcher directed Mr. Trout's new chair right next to his own and offered me to sit down. I looked from side to side and all I could think about was how awkward I felt being surrounded by all four of them.

"My dear, you've met Mr. Gristle and Mr. Pickles," Snatcher directed. I nodded at Mr. Pickles, which he returned. "It's a pleasure, Miss," he said, tipping his hat again.

"Hello," I replied. When I turned to nod at Mr. Gristle, all he did was stare at me with those wide light blue eyes. Much like Mr. Snatcher, he was intimidating, but in his own...'off' way.

"And you're Mr. Trout?" I asked the giant. He tipped his bowler hat.  
"Yes, Miss, good morning."  
"Good morning."

Mr. Snatcher put his hand on my head. "Charming. Simply charming." At least he was happy. I turned and smiled modestly with my eyes to my lap.  
"Miss Pepper, my men are the best in their line of work. Battling monsters from sunset and sunrise is no easy task; always the risk of an attack, you see. Therefore, should any of us need anything of you, I know you'll be happy to listen and do whatever we ask, of course? Come whenever we call you?"

I looked confusedly at him. _"Should they ask anything of me? Come when they call?"_ I thought, but I pushed that thought out of my mind for now. _"Stay in his good graces, Pepper, good graces."_ All four men just stared at me, and my heart began to beat faster than normal.

"Yes, I will." My gaze traveled to Mr. Pickles, who currently stared at Mr. Trout, and I could tell by their eyes that they were concerned.  
"Umm, Miss, you're from London?" Mr. Pickles asked.  
"Yes, sir," I replied with a smile. Both men seemed appreciative.  
"Is it nice there?" Mr. Trout's low voice asked. Not as low as Mr. Snatcher's, this man's voice didn't make me anxious, unlike the former's.  
"Some parts of it are."  
"QUEEN!" I was startled at Mr. Gristle's outburst. I glanced at the other three men, curious for guidance. "Hush, hush, Mr. Gristle. Let the lady finish," Mr. Snatcher replied. I exhaled in relief once the imp settled down. "Th-thank you, sir. You don't really see her that much unless you're family or work for her at the palace. Regular people like me mostly see her at one of those special public events," I smiled at the three of them, except Mr. Gristle. He looked like he was studying me, and all I could feel was this awkward pang in my gut. "What part of it are you from?" Mr. Pickles asked. "Right by the docks of the Thames," I replied. "Do you see sailors everyday?" he continued. "Lots of times a week," I smiled.  
"Now, men," Mr. Snatcher interjected sporadically right after clearing his throat. "Miss Pepper and I have a great deal to discuss, so for now, you are dismissed for the morning. I shall take care of the monster for today." He waved his hand dismissively. "I shall see you all in a few hours. Go on now." Mr. Trout subtly shrugged at Mr. Pickles, and they both stood up from the chairs first. Mr. Gristle kept staring at me, but eventually he too rose up from his chair and walked away with them. Mr. Trout and Mr. Pickles glanced back at me. I shyly waved at them. Mr. Trout nodded courteously and Mr. Pickles only smiled, and just like the one from before, I believed in it.

"Glad to be done with that foolish chatter," Mr. Snatcher drawled once they all left. I frowned at him. "They seem quite nice, sir," I almost whispered, as I watched them closed the door behind them, all the while crouching in my seat. "Hmm...they're hopeless, but at least they're dependable." He placed a long thin hand on one of my tiny ones. I turned back to face him.  
"Now my dear girl," he leaned forward in his chair and looked at me directly in the eye. "I would love to discuss with you the details in your time here with us, so if you would be so kind..." He snapped his fingers and pointed to my chair. I looked at it, grasped my seat, and sat flat down in it. "Alright," I replied, nodding. "And this is how I'm going to see you every time you sit at this table, I'm sure," he swiped some hair away from my face, and though my eyes blinked, I kept my head still. "Yes, sir."  
"Good, now, I'm not going to lie and say that this shall be easy for you all the time. I'm not a very patient man and I'm not easily pleased." I bit my lip from the inside as I heard that. "But I am a man of my word. I shall hold up to my end of our agreement if you hold up to your own. Surely you agree?"  
"Yes I do, sir."  
"Very nice." He sat back up in his chair."My dear, what do you know of the history of Cheesebridge? Probably not very much since you haven't been here for very long."  
"I know a little, sir. Bryan told me a little about it."  
"And who is this 'Bryan'?"  
"Oh, he's one of my new friends from two days ago. I think he told me that it all started with a cheese making business, and then the town grew out of it."  
"Hmm...your little friend has merely summarized it. Come," he pushed his chair back and stood up. "Walk with me." As he walked by, he brushed my shoulder with my hand. I stood up, pushed in my chair, and followed.  
"What else is there, Mr. Snatcher?" I asked.

"I'm so glad you asked," he replied with a grin. "Cheesebridge came from humble beginnings. Two centuries ago, a couple of families, one of them very special I must say, left your very own town and found the pastures right outside on their quest for some elbow room. The two families established their new homes here, and...worked together..." his smile turned into a scowl. We were currently standing by the stove, to which he practically gave it a deathly look. I felt a great deal of comfort knowing that it was directed to that instead of me. "M-M-Mr. Snatcher?" His eyes swerved towards me and I backed away just a little. He grinned at me.  
"Where are my manners?" he casually asked. "Follow me please." He walked past me again and pulled out a pan and a bag of oats. "I might as well show you around most of this place anyway." I watched him fix a pan of porridge using the stove and some coal I saw inside it. Watching him light up a match was a little nerve-racking but I remained silent and simply watched him. "Now where was I?" he said stirring the mixture on top of the stove.  
"Two families working together, sir."

"Ahh, yes, now, the special family in particular had found the cattle in the fields perfect for producing dairy goods, and decided to form an agreement with the others. The first family would manage finances, for they were quite detailed and intellectual in business, and the second family managed animal treatment and dairy production. Using their assets, they managed to sell milk and especially cheese, our most popular product. With time, more settlers came to work at their slowly growing business. Unfortunately, though the first family worked harder than anyone else for their village, the second family gained more notoriety for their social skills...'social skills'...they flapped their jaws far more than they worked and suddenly, they're now rumored to become the first Mayor? Pathetic...eventually both families parted ways, allowing that first, special family to find a new, far more convenient way to serve the town faithfully; pest extermination. They worked harder and stronger than anyone, hiring honorable men, Snatcher sons and daughters marrying those from notable fathers," he glanced down at me, making me blink.

"...and nothing came of it. Over that first hundred years, as that other family...well, the bloody lot further grew with influence, not that they deserved it. They soon made friends with other wealthier families immigrating from London, and other towns by that point. One family, by the name Broderick, had wanted to try their hand at the cheese business, and those 'influential' rats built them up and what happened to the special family? The ones with the real cheese business from the start? They were overshadowed, forgotten. Now here we are two hundred years later, and they're not even mentioned in our history books?!" He slammed a fist down on the counter. I hurriedly back away with my hands to my chest. The look in his eyes were slits, dark and threatening. I glanced over my shoulder, hoping that somehow someone would be there to put some distance between me and him.

There was no one.

He took a breath and brushed some loose hair strands behind his ear. "As those undeserving families increased, the deserving family decreased. Sad...isn't it?" He finished preparing the porridge, poured some into a bowl, and gave it to me so I may sit back down in my proper chair. "And do you know who that special family was, my child?" "No, sir," I nervously replied. He chuckled. "You haven't guess?" I shook my head. "My family, the Snatcher Clan; the first family in Cheesebridge, and the undeserving blokes, the other first family here, the Portley-Rinds. My ancestor, Aloysius Snatcher, knew how to deal with those who slacked and fell behind. On the other hand, our Mayor's, Pemberton Portley-Rind, only cared for attention. They always have. Now, with their sad excuses for power and connections, they've allowed their youngest male member, that Lord Portley-Rind, become the mayor of this poor town. Him? Mayor? And everyone insists on continuing to vote for him in each election. And once he became a White Hat for having his position, he appoints his own little friends to become so as well, including that weasel Broderick, whose father took my father's cheese business, becoming the wealthiest in this town. It all makes me sick! Think of it, my dear. A pompous thing like him sheltered from birth by his snobby, treacherous family ruling this town thinking he's won it? He was a brat from birth and that little girl of his, 'Winifred' he calls her, will be no different."

 _"Winifred..."_

"But...do you even know her?" I asked shyly. He scowled at me. "I don't have to know her! The Portley-Rinds are a disappointing bunch, regardless of what role they play within that family. Even as a boy, I could see the Portley-Rinds for what they are. I knew the tales of my ancestors from my father...ahh I miss those days...you should've seen me. Lean as a horse, I was," he continued lightly hitting his fist to his chest. "But that's not the point. Once I have my White Hat, I know I shall one day take his place, and give myself the respect that I, as a Snatcher deserve!"  
"You want to be Mayor, sir?" I asked, a scared feeling emerging within me. He grinned and I only felt worse. "It shall come after I receive my White Hat. All Snatcher men should strive for the greatness Aloysius Snatcher had tasted so many years ago; my father and myself are no different." His arms were wide and dramatic and his eyes looked to the side, as if viewing the future. "If they don't, what use are they?"  
"I-I see..." I felt queasy at so much information being poured into me like the hot cereal in my bowl. I was almost too nervous to speak, but the silence likely would've been far worse. "Mr. Snatcher, sir, if you are going to be this great White Hat man, then...what will I be?" He lowered his arms, his grin now appearing calm and reassuring, but I wasn't too sure about that. "You," he resumed. "How lucky are you, my dear?! Once I become the most respected man in this town, you shall become its most respected lady; the fortunate favorite of an esteemed gentlemen! By the time I achieve my proper place..." he took my cheek. "...you'll be what you've wanted to be and more; a fine lady worthy of belonging in a gentleman's company, educated in womanly pursuits. You will walk, talk, behave, even eat like a Cheesebridgian noble. I'll teach it all to you, my dear."  
"Really?"  
"Why, of course! You no longer have to worry about making difficult decisions. I shall take care of everything, and your obedience is all I'll need from you."  
"I know, sir." For the first time, since I first came to this factory, he patted my head.

I'd never felt more awkward in my life.

"But I'm repeating myself! Now finish your breakfast, and don't take too long." Thankfully I didn't have too many mouthfuls left, so I finished those at a moderate pace and pushed my bowl away when I was finished. "Wash it, if you pleassssse," he drawled. I had to use hot water which reddened my hands and caused slight discomfort, but I glanced over my shoulders and decided that I wouldn't dare disagree.

"When you're done, I would very much like for you to return to your room for the time being," he instructed. "How come? Am I in trouble?" I worriedly asked. "Oh, no, no, dear." He beckoned me over and I stood before him, and all I could think about was the day before. I dreaded the very thought of having to see this everyday... forever; though I couldn't dwell on that. I had to think about what he wanted at this very day  
"You see that little box over there?" he pointed towards the little boxtroll hiding inside its mean of protection. It had been sitting there silently this whole time and I was quite surprised.  
"Yes, sir," I replied.  
"I must put that filthy little boxtroll in its proper place. Unfortunately, you are far too young to see the 'extermination' process. I certainly don't want to injure your weak, timid little heart at what I do to those pitiless creatures."

"Weak and timid, Mr. Snatcher?"  
"Sadly, yes, you're far too frail and delicate; clearly not meant for such uneasy matters. You'd faint the moment the troll sees you with those glowing, predatory eyes." "I-I'd try not to." "Little mouse...I won't say it again," his tone was low, as he snapped his fingers and pointed towards the stairs as he stepped towards me. I bowed my head in shame, while tapping my pointer fingers, fearing the worst. "I'm sorry, sir." He leaned back. I could hear him lean back in his chair and cross his legs. "You're forgiven...now, off with you." He tapped my legs with one of his heeled shoes. "Th-thank you," I replied shakily as I sporadically sprinted off.

I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, shut myself into my room, and scurried underneath my bed sheets, crying and deathly afraid.

 _Mr. Snatcher, you're hurting me._


	9. Chapter 8

Free Pepper

Chapter 8

"Have a safe night, sir."

I had wiped my eyes of my tears a little while ago so that I could come back downstairs and see the Red Hats off, by Mr. Snatcher's request. The two of us sat down for supper again, and I didn't really say much. I mostly just let him talk about how many trolls he thought he might catch. According to him, just one troll caught made a night on the town a good night. He rambled on until we walked to the entrance and found Mr. Gristle, Mr. Pickles, and Mr. Trout gathering in the front of the building. While Mr. Trout filled the truck with fuel and start the truck and take their places, Mr. Snatcher and I just waited at the door. Mr. Pickles slipped past us to pour a pot of tea for Mr. Snatcher's teacup and saucer at his place on the vehicle.

"I'm sure we shall. We will be quite busy tonight, but that's nothing unusual, so be a dear, and clear off the table, will you?" He didn't really look at me, as he was too busy fastening his jacket and straightening his crooked red hat.  
"Oh, of course," I replied looking back at the table. He patted my head and like last time, it felt awfully awkward.  
"I'll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow morning at sunrise. There should be a clock in your room, so please use it to get up in the morning."  
"Yes, sir."

I stared at him leave as he locked the door behind him. Just to make sure, I followed him the best way I knew how. I found a nearby window and watched him climb up into his chair on top. With Mr. Trout in the driver's seat, Mr. Snatcher plopped into his chair on top, took his usual pot of tea and poured some of it into his cup. The engine started and soon enough, off they went into the night.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! Good citizens of Cheesebridge: the Curfew is among us! Hurry into your homes, lest you become victims yourselves!"

That day's supper was simple: a small bowl of beef stew for me and a large one for him. I tried to reach the sink, but I was far too short, so I had a thought to push one of the chairs from the table towards the it to effectively wash the bowls. Approaching the table, I stared at the lovely Boss Chair. I looked left, then right. He wasn't around; no one was around, so extended an arm. My heart almost skipped a beat at the feeling of such a seat. There was little wonder why he liked such a chair. Its texture was smooth, yet rigid from the designs, and the cushions were soft and left a hand shaped imprint when I pressed one of mine into it. I took the legs and pushed it towards the sink, not really thinking much of it. Brushing my legs and feet of any dust, I sat on my knees on the Boss Chair and washed the bowls and spoons. After brushing the table of fallen food and running a sponge up and down the round surface, I stepped back and took a look at the entire area.

Everything looked clean and alright; at least it was how I'd found it before Mr. Snatcher had asked Mr. Pickles to show me how to make it, while he and Mr. Gristle sat at the table and spoke, and from the former's gestures, it was probably about me again. I yawned. It had been such an odd day, but then again I shouldn't have been too surprised. This was my first official day of being in the care of a much older man who always looked as though he could rip me to pieces, if I made too dreadful a mistake.

Perfect...

Remembering that I'd taken a bath earlier, I changed into a long men's night shirt I'd found inside one of the drawers of the bed table, as well as the clock Mr. Snatcher spoke of. Thankfully all the girls at my orphanage knew how to set these, for we too had to be up and awake each morning; none of this 'sleeping in' nonsense. I set it for 6 AM just to be completely sure. The sun wouldn't be quite out at this time, so surely I'd have a little time to get up, brush my hair, and find something else to wear. I slid into the sheets and shuddered at the lack of heat. I laid there for awhile, probably longer than I should have. Mr. Snatcher filled my head like water into a cup. But then again, this was becoming common.

I could've cried, but those tears had fallen and were long over with. My mind and body felt far too overwhelmed for me to do anything else. The Portley-Rinds and the Snatchers: the first families, working together, but not for long. I guess Bryan had never heard that part. But then again, who better to tell it than the man it all personally affects. Had my friends ever lost a someone they had known for so long, only to feel left behind by those same people? Had they ever been robbed of something they'd worked so hard for? To add fuel to the fire, had it been done by someone they thought of as a neighbor, if nothing else? My eyes grew heavy, so any answers I could've tried to give myself never came.

My breaths were short towards the table and the Boss Chair. Though the entire factory's lights were on, the windows were a deep blue from the sun rising to brighten the darkened world outside. I was still in my night shirt, and my hair was in a mess of tangles. I nibbled my lip at the sky's dark hues growing lighter within seconds. "If Mr. Snatcher finds me like this, who knows what he'll think!" I gasped. "He'll think I'm disrespecting him and lock me up for a hundred years!" I spun around furiously, my eyes pulsating and searching for the stairs. The moment I saw them made me sprint up those steps like a bat out of hell. Each step made my heart pump and my brow sweat from the pressure of climbing up each one. I couldn't let him find me under dressed, but there was no not meeting him at the front door at sunrise like he asked either. I'll just brush my hair a little, slip something on and that'll be it. The top stair was within eye sight and a flicker of excitement turned on within me.

I can make it!

The hallway right by me revealed a certain shape that stopped me: Mr. Snatcher's leg. Stepping onto the floor of the stairwell, he appeared before me and I couldn't move a single muscle. There he was looking down at me with the sickest grin I'd ever seen. I couldn't even say a word to him, because I knew I was done for. He walked down and with each step, a look of horror creased onto my face and my hands were raised in defense. But that didn't stop him. He took my wrist and I closed my eyes tightly. All around me, I could feel the bars and flat metallic surface, banging my head, arms, and legs.

...

My eyes opened again, and I was confined only by blankets and my pillow again. I searched all around me and sighed in relief. I groggily sat up and looked at my clock. I had about five hours to go. "Grr..." I put the clock back on the table and hid myself inside my sheets in a huff. "Hmpf!...stupid clock..."

RING! RING! RING!

"I'm up! I'm up! Don't kill me!" I shot up like a bullet out of a gun. The blackness around me was dark blue once again, so I flipped over my sheets and stared out the window. If the sky looked deep blue, then the sun would be here soon enough, and I'll need to be downstairs. I pulled out light gray shirt and trousers, brushed my hair, freshened up my face, and dressed up. Even after brushing my hair I still felt a little messy no thanks to my unruly hair. "Maybe if I'm extra good, he'll let me get some hair ties." But for now, my ill-kept hair and boys' clothing was as good as it was going to get.

I made my bed up quickly, hurried down the hallways, and flew down the stairs, my hands promptly readjusting my appearance towards any flaw I found, even the smallest ones. Hurrying to the kitchen area, I gasped! The Boss Chair was still by the sink, and thankfully it still looked as clean as it had been when Mr. Snatcher left. Shuddering loudly, I scurried to the chair and pushed it as hard as I could back to its original place.

"Pepper!"

"Oh no, he's home."

I bit my lip at the stress welling up within me. I swiped the dust off and took a deep breath, only to cough repeatedly at the dust in my throat. "Good Lord, child, are you alright?" I turned around and nervously stood straight and tall. Even as my head turned light and dizzy, I still walked up to him and smiled as sincerely as possible. "Welcome home, sir!" I replied among the coughs. Mr. Snatcher met me with an unimpressed frown and an even more hunched over frame. His clacking footsteps were long and sinister, and I could practically feel it in me that something was dreadfully wrong. I warily walked over and stood before him as his stone gray eyes frightened me the more I looked at them.

"Mr. Snatcher, what's the matter?" I looked at his hand; the one with the three rings. I tried to take it, scared as I was, but he held it up and away from me.  
"Were you touching my chair?" he pointed to it, with a curved eyebrow.  
"I-I-I was dusting it for you. F-F-For when you got back. I-I'm sure you're tired." "Hmm..." Giving me a snobby look, he took my shoulder after a few seconds of staring, and pushed me away. I promptly stepped back and watched him open a couple of cabinets, pull out a wine glass and bottle (the latter I was never quite sure about in the case of what it actually was), pour some of the drink into the glass, and sit in his chair. "H-H-How many trolls did you catch, sir?" His look turned neutral while drinking from his glass, but it was a sort of neutral that made me cautious and stay in my very spot.  
"Pepper...," chills ran down my spine. "Do you you see any boxes?" My eyes searched.  
"No, sir."  
"Do you see any trolls?" I put my own back against the wall as he took another sip.  
"No, sir." His eyes were like poison; deadly and painful to bear.  
"Come forward," he drawled. I swallowed a lump in my throat and did as I was told. Standing next to him in his chair, I looked down.  
"M-M-Mister..."  
"Shh. I'm not finished." My lips closed. "Pepper, darling, do you see a smile on my face?" He was still neutral.  
"No, sir, I-"

"BECAUSE I DIDN'T CATCH ANY, YOU FOOL!"

Coming to his feet, his hand forcefully made contact with my chest, sending me flying to the floor. Landing on my back, I laid there flat on the floor and pulled myself away from him. He stood over me, glaring with a look that would easily kill if it could. Mr. Snatcher's attacking hand remained in the air, at his chest's level. I took deep breaths and remained silent. I kept my eyes wide, hoping and praying they wouldn't moisten.  
"Well, get up." I snapped out of my trance at his words and rushed to my feet.  
"I'm sorry, sir. I was just...well..." I looked away in shame and rubbed my wet face.  
"You ask such ridiculous questions, and you're far too emotional. In time, I shall fix you." His ominous face slowly followed me as I leaned backward a little more. "And above all, you touch something of mine that isn't yours. Did I ask you to dust my chair?"  
My lip trembled and my stomach felt nauseous. "No, b-but, I-" "Why?" his hardened tone asked. "I-I-I..." I sat on my knees and planted my hands onto the floor, my head terribly low. "I used it last night to reach the sink so's I could wash the dishes like you asked me to!" I sniffled my red nose. "You win, Mr. Snatcher. I'm sorry," I replied solemnly. I shut my eyes tightly, covering my face in shame. I didn't even have to ask what he was about to do. How could I not know? He was going to drag me up the steps, lock me away, and never let me see the light of day again.

Mr. Snatcher held his head back, pointed at me, and laughed heartily instead. I rose my head to him confusedly. He was laughing at me. Why?

"Kid, you've got a heart of glass!"  
"...huh?..."  
"You do one little thing and you must think that I'll destroy you should I find out."  
"Umm...oh, well, I..."  
"Oh my, you silly girl." He approached me, and took my hand. "Up with you now," he said calmly. I shakily stood up and shook at one of his frigid hands, taking my face, and tilting it up for me to meet him.  
"I do love it when I win, but even I'm willing to admit I did have a disappointing night, but your humorous behavior has lifted my spirits. I don't mind if you dust my chair. In fact, a little cleaning might keep you busy, but if you're not sure if you have permission to touch something, you can just ask me." "Oh..." I said. "Yes..." he mimicked. I smiled only a little when he did, but I looked away regretfully.

 _"A heart of glass?"_

...

"Have a restful day, sir."  
"And don't forget to see us off tonight."  
"I won't forget."

Standing on one of the plainer looking chairs, I'd started washing Mr. Snatcher's wine glass. Wiping it clean with a cloth, I set it aside and yawned. I smiled innocently as his clacking footsteps receded upward. Reaching for an overhead cupboard, I placed the glass back where he'd found it, and dried the counter of water and anything else I could find. I turned my head to look at the table, knowing that there was a piece of paper Mr. Snatcher had left there; a list he'd made for me. After putting the cloth away, I took the list, pulled out an apple from a nearby cupboard, and looked at the page. The hand writing was a little twisty, but with narrowed eyes, I managed well enough.

 _1\. Tidy up your room._

 _2\. Launder your clothing._

Launder? As in laundry? Washing clothes? Surely that was what he met. I tiptoed up the steps so as not to wake up Mr. Snatcher and looked about my room. It wasn't too bad, for all I had to clean up was my bathroom counter and my used clothes on its floor. So I turned on the water, put all my clothes inside, and used the bar of soap to scrub my clothes, and I certainly hoped that I was doing it all correctly.

"Mr. Pickles, how do you do laundry?"

Several hours later, I came downstairs to greet Mr. Pickles, Mr. Trout, and Mr. Gristle. While Mr. Trout had gone down to the basement as he was holding a mason jar, and Mr. Pickles and myself sat at the table, Mr. Gristle had stopped in a corner, falling silent.  
"Laundry, Miss?" Mr. Pickles asked.  
"Mr. Snatcher asked me to...how did he put it...'launder' my clothes. I'm not sure if I did it right." Mr. Pickles hummed in thought.  
"How'd you do it?"  
"I remembered seeing some of the ladies at my old home washing clothes in a washtub, and scrubbing their clothes with hot water and soap, so I used my bar of soap and tub upstairs to do mine," I explained gesturing up the stairs.  
"Oh, in that case, may I show you something then? We've got a few things that'll make washing clothes a little easier," Mr. Pickles stood up and offered a hand and a kind smile, so I took it and walked with him to a closet I had never thought to open before. It stood close by the kitchen, in between that and the corner of the front door where the door stood. He opened the closet, revealing a collection of cleaning supplies: a broom, mop and bucket, sponges, a washboard, a round tin washtub, and a green bottle Mr. Pickles pulled out for me. "We'll do our laundry here at the factory every few days or so during our down time. This here is the clothing soap. You fill the washtub with water, apply soap and rub the clothes against the washboard."  
"Yeah, I remember. But I've already washed my clothes."  
"You can always use these next time."  
"Sure!" I smiled at him, but sporadically chuckled. I almost couldn't believe it myself; a smile appeared on my face (willingly!). In this intimidating factory, I felt actual...joy.

I suddenly noticed something Mr. Snatcher would've called 'peculiar': Mr. Gristle hovering over a rectangular tank I hadn't really gone over to look at before. The beanpole noticed that I was staring, and he too looked on.  
"Yech!" I cried towards the sickly green box. I whipped my head away in revulsion.  
"What's the matter, Miss?" Mr. Pickles asked in his usual calm way.  
"What is he doing?" I asked, pointing at Mr. Gristle with my tongue out in disgust.  
"Mr. Gristle's just feeding the leeches."  
"Oh...wait, what?" I asked.  
"You see that big old glass box, right?"  
"Yes, I do."  
"The three of us keep that tank of leeches. We take turns feeding them, but Mr. Gristle seems to like it more than we do, so when he asks if he can take a turn, we always let him."  
"Blech! Why leeches? Why not something nicer like a goldfish?" I asked with a sour look.  
"Well..." his voice trailed off. "Goldfish are nice, but I'm afraid the leeches are all we can afford. It's... for the better."  
"How come?"

Mr. Pickles fell silent, tapping his fingers. "It's rather hard to explain." His gaze turn somber and tragic, as if a truly heartbreaking feeling had just overtaken him. "Why? Are the leeches sick?" He hummed once more as he shook his head, this time a little anxious himself, but he wouldn't look away from me. He took a deep long breath.  
"No, It's not that, it's...oh, it's no use. You'll see it all eventually."

"Ooh..." My face lit up at the possibility of a secret. "See what? Tell me! Tell me!" Leaning forward, I gave him a grin, apparently goofy enough to make Mr. Pickles smile. Even as a child, I was never one to ignore a secret.  
"Well, the fact is, Miss, the leeches keep Mr. Snatcher from swelling up."  
"Swelling up? What's that?"  
"Well, he...gets bigger."  
"Bigger?"  
"Yes. If he eats cheese or drinks milk, his face and hands, and sometimes his legs could swell up. The leeches, suck up the...pus in the skin, so that it's easier for him to stomach."

"Well, his is really round and puffy."

Mr. Pickles grinned and chuckled. "No, no, I mean 'put up with it'."  
"Oh..." I nodded in understanding. "What's pus?"  
"Uhh..." he said as his head grew misty with sweat beads. "It's this liquid that grows inside the skin whenever you get a sore on your body. The Boss gets them whenever he eats cheese. We call them 'Cheese Fits'," he explained with evident discomfort.  
"UGH! That's gross!"  
"You're right! Let's talk about other things," he replied as we both laughed. But then we trailed off...

"He makes me nervous."  
"He makes everyone nervous, Miss."

...

"And what is this for?"

I couldn't help but smile the rest of my day after my talk with Mr. Pickles. To this day, I never thought that a conversation about laundry and leeches would make me feel better but it did. Even after Mr. Pickles, Mr. Gristle, and Mr. Trout went outside as the evening came and Mr. Snatcher came, I only felt a _little_ afraid...but when I saw him coming down the steps the way he always did, I took a breath, cleared my mind, rushed to him, and wrapped my arms around his legs.

"Today's been really good, sir! I did all the stuff on the list, like you told me. And I talked to Mr. Pickles!"  
"Mr. Pickles, you say?" he glanced at the front door.  
"Yes!" I exclaimed. He plucked me off his legs and put me to the side so he could walk on.  
"What did you two talk about? Nothing too personal I hope."  
"Laundry and cheese and leeches!"  
"...I beg your pardon?" he chuckled nervously.  
"Laundry, cheeses, and leeches, Mr. Snatcher...are you alright? Your eyes are twitchy."

Making it up to the counter at this point, I could see him stare aggravatingly at the counter. _"Relax, Pepper,"_ I thought to myself. "Did Mr. Pickles say anything about the leeches?" he asked in a bothered tone, almost a little scared. "They cure your Cheese Fits, sir."  
"Bah! Cheese Fits?!" he scoffed. "Pepper, dear, I do NOT receive these Cheese Fits you speak of! I use cheese to remind myself of my purpose on this Earth! To demonstrate the respect and power I deserve for my family's services to this town, inevitably leading up to the acquirement of a White Hat: a true connoisseur of cheeses."  
"Y-yes of course..."  
"But I've spoken enough of that already. Now, Pepper, no more of this 'Cheese Fits' talk. It's not very becoming, and a waste of time."  
"Y-yeah, yeah, sure," I swiped my hair behind my ear.  
"You seem a little uneasy," he replied. I involuntarily twitched.  
"W-w-well, I've been doing a little thinking." He raised an eyebrow.  
"That must have hurt."  
"I don't want to-...hurt?" "Continue, please." I bit the inside of my lip. "Umm...I-I don't want to be made out of glass." "Glass, my dear?" "Yeah, I mean...you said I have a heart of glass. And..." I squared my shoulders and he nodded in reply. "I don't like it, Mr. Snatcher. Not at all!" "Hmm, I see." "Nope! I...cry alot, and I don't want to. I don't feel 'special' yet." "Aah, you've mentioned that before." "Mmh-hmm...and..." my confidence deflated a little. "I'll be here for a loooong time, right?" He smiled.

Playing with my fingers, I fell silent. "Pepper, I don't have all night." My head jerked up. "Y-Y-yes, uh, I-I-I want to go to a store, and get that dress and shoes I told you about. I-I think I'll feel better." He hummed, turned around, and strutted for the front door.  
"You're right, my child, for once. You will be better, once you look better." He glanced at my long, deep red hair. "...and do something about that red hair..." he muttered. "What's wrong with it, Mr. Snatcher?" I asked. "...nothing at all," was all he said as he eyed it and tightened his necktie. "And that is why we are here. Yes, we shall begin by bettering yourself in appearance; intellect and propriety will come with time. You will begin by drying your needless tears," He opened the door, and turned to face me one last time. "The rest of your appearance must wait until tomorrow. Pleasant dreams, my dear."

"Good-"

He closed and locked it.

"...night."


	10. Chapter 9

Free Pepper

Chapter 9

I woke up the following morning believing that something just wasn't right. I had been in bed sleeping until something cold tapped my shoulder. My eyes fluttered open and as I rubbed them, I yawned and pushed my sheets away. I sat with my back turned to the front door and stretched my limbs. "Ahem."

I froze.

I slowly turned around, 'eeked!', and hid under my covers. Mr. Snatcher turned on my lamp, pinched my blankets, and lifted them, revealing my face. "M-m-my alarm hasn't gone off." He glanced at the clock and watched it tick for a second or two. "Did you forget to set it?" he replied, peeling my bed sheets.

"It looks like it," I muttered. He took my clock, showed me the time, and put it in my drawer. It was about 9:30 in the morning. "It was for the better. I had an errand to run so I let you sleep in. Thoughtful of me, ain't it?" I sighed in relief, smiled, and nodded a little. I watched him until he closed my drawer, fully aware that he'd seen my bag full of money and cheese. I widened my eyes when I noticed some stubble on his face. He eventually took a glance at me. "What? No good morning? No thank you?" "Oh! Good morning! Thank you for letting me sleep in." He placed his hand on my head and smiled. "And good morning to you...I wanted to wake you myself. I've got a couple of things for you." He turned around, and I wouldn't dare move. He handed me a list firstly. "You may look at this on your own time." Secondly, he gave me a long unwrapped rectangular box; a boxtroll wouldn't have worn it because it was in two pieces, the lid and the actual container, all bound by string. If anything, it looked like the kind that would hold clothing, and of that, I had a realization.  
"Is this for me?" I asked pointing to myself.

"Open it." My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. I took the string into my fingers and tried to undo the knot. The string was thin but incredibly tight. Using my thumbs to play with it, I heard the light tapping of Mr. Snatcher's fingers, the man giving an impatient groan soon enough before he snatched the box and cut the string himself. "Here." He gave it back to me and watched me open it and I stared in silence at what I found.

A blood red dress with mid-length sleeves surprised me, despite my assumption that it really was clothing. I didn't know these terms at the time, but if I did, I'd have described it as one with a jewel shaped neckline, a knee length skirt and a buttoned down back. The elbow and wrists of the sleeves, and the small subtle ruffle near the base of the skirt was a lighter, rosy red color, and the collar, low waistline, and thin, stitched in petticoat were white. The latter was slightly longer than the skirt but only by a centimeter or two, making its white fabric a little visible to the naked eye. With the dress came a pair of gray stockings, a pair of white embroidery to tighten them with, a circular blood red colored hat, short and flat like a straw hat but clearly made of felt, with that same rosy red color wrapped around the lower half of the crown in the form of a ribbon tied in a bow on the back of the hat, and finally, a blood red hair bow and black buckled shoes.

I rose to my knees and wrapped my arms around his own arm and hummed with a smile. "Thank you, sir! They're all beautiful! I can't wait to wear them!" The arm I took bent in repulsion and I could tell from the curls of his fingers. His free hand took my shoulder and jerked himself from me, allowing strands of hair to fall from his face.

"Of course, Pepper darling," he replied in an almost disgusted demeanor. I could tell by the way he took my shoulders and lightly pushed me back down onto the bed. I smiled at him as he took my clothing, pulled out a hanger from my closet and hung it over the rail. "The Fortunate Favorite of an Esteemed Gentleman shouldn't go without at the very least something proper to wear. I recommend looking at the list first before you putting on your apparel; don't want it getting messy. Now, if you'll excuse me: I'm off to retire for the morning, but..." He spun around rather gracefully making my shift in my spot. "It would be simply splendid if you accompanied me on a little outing today. Say, 4 o'clock?" He asked, taking my hand.

"An outing? You mean...we're going somewhere...other than here?" He chuckled at me, making me seal my lips shut in a twinge of fear mixed with nervousness. "If you complete every task on the list, of course you may come. Nothing too difficult, even for you." I parted my lips to respond, but he yawned and turned around. "I shall see you at 4, and please be ready by then. Dress and all."

"I will." I nodded with a smile.

...

 _Downstairs Only!_

 _1\. Sweep the floor_

 _2\. Mop the floor_

 _3\. Dust the furniture_

The list didn't sound too hard. I put on an older, brown pair of trousers and men's shirt so that I wouldn't risk ruining my new clothes. I opened the closet Mr. Pickles had shown me the day before and I mostly just stared at them. I never really did a great deal of cleaning back in London. I mostly just ran around the city looking for things to do, but I did know a few tips about the subject. I knew that sweeping came before mopping. Taking the broom and dustpan into my hands I stopped and looked at the floor first and foremost, and my heart sank. "...shoot..." I thought. I'd completely forgotten the fact that the downstairs of the factory was obviously the largest area in the entire building. How could I have overlooked that while reading that blasted list?

"It's alright, Pepper. You can do this," I said to myself. I started at the corner by the closet and brushed the broom to the floor. Sweeping from left to right like a pencil on paper, I kept an eye on each little cluster of dust I found, grouping it all together into two or three piles. From corner to corner, and centimeter to centimeter, the broom searched and gathered, through the kitchen area, below the stair case, around the levers that controls the hanging cages, and anything else I could find. Amidst the sneezing and wheezing from all the dust, I couldn't stop; not until everything looked perfect. Two hours of sweeping, another two of mopping, and thankfully dusting only took one hour (at least that's how it turned out no thanks to the slippery floor). After a thirty minute inspection over everything I had cleaned, I smiled and wiped the sweat from my brow. I excitedly rushed up the steps and back to my room to clean up.

My stomach rumbled and gave me the idea to pull out the gouda I'd started the other day. Pulling out my bag and opening it, I'd expected to see that and the money Genevieve gave me. Thinking of her made me frown. My only friend up until I'd met Leona, Bryan, Abigail, James, and Skyla, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever see her again. My Cheesebridge friends were one thing, but Genevieve was another. Opening the bag and searching around, my stomach performed a back flip. My money was gone. All of my pound notes had completely vanished. I searched frantically for it was all I could was the gouda I put to the side. I shuddered at the complete emptiness of my bag. My gift from Genevieve had been taken. My lip quivered and I put my arm to my eyes, because I could feel them grow misty with emotion. I tried my hardest to bite them back. Besides, I figured that I didn't have much time left before I'd have to be downstairs in my brand new outfit.

The gouda I'd bought beforehand still smelled and even tasted alright. The rest of that had to be my lunch as my bathtub filled up with water. I stared out the window as I nibbled my cheese; the sky was pretty cloudy for a summer day. "I hope it doesn't rain," I whispered to myself. I looked up at the clouds, smiling at an image I had in my head of a group of white clouds and a group of gray clouds colliding with each other in a great big battle. Brighter clouds hitting dimmer clouds with their swords and shields in hopes of determining whether the latter would let it rain or the former would keep the sun shining. My elbow slipped from the window sill, causing to slip back into reality. I washed myself in the bathtub, making sure that I scrubbed deep. If I was going to walk around in my special dress and shoes, I might as clean myself up.

Feeling fresh in a new pair of jockey shorts I found in another drawer, I pinched the dress by its shoulders and looked at it. It felt soft, making me hug it tightly. Traveling between London and Cheesebridge and I felt a little excited at finally having my very own special outfit. After tying my hair in a low ponytail, I pulled the stockings over my legs, fastening them right below my shorts (if the ladies in London could do it, surely I could), unbuttoned the dress and slipped it over me. Fitting my arms through the sleeves, I fastened every button and pulled my long hair out from under the dress. The last thing to add was my hat: my Red Hat. I shuddered from realization, but there was no use in complaining. Mr. Snatcher never did seem like the kind of man who tolerated complainers.

I stood before the mirror and stared. I alternated from smiles to frowns. On one hand, I felt beautiful. _"If the girls back home could see me now,"_ I thought. But forgive the repetition, but why did it have to be Archibald Snatcher? The dress fitted me pretty well and the flowing skirt made me twirl around, and I felt as if I was flying through the air, with the snobs I'd seen in both towns far below me. But in my fantasy, I could see red tinted clouds forming into a lightening storm. Whenever I would remind myself that it was him who made this possible, it was like a deadly strike that would burn me up and pull me to the ground.

I couldn't stay up in the sky for very long though. I pulled my clock out of my drawer and looked at it. It was almost a quarter to four. I stared at my bedroom door and warily turned the knob.

I looked out one of the windows while I waited for him downstairs. The sky was still a little overcast but I wasn't too worried about that anymore. I was far too focused on the outing ahead. I almost couldn't believe it. Mr. Snatcher and I out in the open; what will people think? Where would we go? What would we go?

Clack, clack, clack

If only I'd had the time to guess. I turned around at the sound of footsteps, and stood up straight and tall.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"And good afternoon to you as well," he said this in an almost bewildered tone; the kind a man might give to an exceptionally lovely woman. Within a minute of seeing him, I noticed something a little different about him.  
"Why are you carrying a stick?" I asked. Mr. Snatcher came down the stairs with one hand on the rail and a walking cane in the other. I'd seen men in London walk with them, and even then I would wonder why they would carry them if they had no obvious walking problems. The cane was long and silver, but the knob itself was shaped like triangular piece of golden cheese. "I'll have you know, child, that this is a family heirloom. This walking cane has been in my family since the days of Aloysius Snatcher! Perfect for running errands before work." "But what's it for, sir?" He gave me an annoyed look.

"Didn't you ever see men walk about with their own canes in London?"  
"Well, yes, but I always thought they just had problems walking."  
"Some do, but I certainly don't," he replied with a scoff and a hand gesture pressing lightly to his vest. "For those esteemed few such as myself, it sets us apart from our peers; an indicator of gentlemanly behavior."  
"Do you ever use it for work?" His eyebrow twitched.  
"Pepper, did you not hear me? I use it for errands!" He jabbed the knob into my chest as he said that last word. "Ow!" "I wouldn't dream of risking the loss of this precious item to a horde of disgusting monsters! For God's sake, girl, pay attention!" "...S-sorry..."  
Mr. Snatcher had given me an ugly look while I rubbed my chest and swiped at my dress, making sure it was still devoid of any dust. He tapped his finger to his lip, probably thinking. "And while you're at it, spin around," he said twirling his cane about. I closed my eyes and turned quickly. "Not too fast, you daft girl. Just enough to let me look at you." I turned much more slowly and nibbled on my lip. "Don't ruin this," I thought to myself.

"How do I look?" I asked curiously.  
"Hmm...proper," he bluntly stated with a grin. "You can go anywhere now. I just knew I picked a grand look for you."

"Yes, thank you." I smiled but not at him. My head was pointing downward as I showed him my appearance. "Alright, alright, stop turning," he said in an annoyed tone. "Y-yes, of course," I practically jumped up straight and tall and fixed my dress just in case. He walked past me and pulled out the ring of keys. I could feel chills of excitement as he unlocked the door. I approached him but before I could say or do anything else, he spun around and put his palm to my chest. "Don't move." He turned back around and turned the key in its lock. His pushed open the door and stepped out. Once his feet were planted firmly outside and he beckoned me with his finger, a little spark of excitement charged me right outside into the fresh air.

The warmth of summer made me exhale a great deal of air and turn my head all around to look at the river on my right and the town on my left. The buzz of the summer bugs and light breeze on my face made me look up at the sky, hold my hat so that it wouldn't fall as I tilted my head to reach for it. I vocalized my happiness in seeing this missed picture of nature I wanted so badly to return to just the other day, completely forgetting that I wasn't alone. When the sight of the hills surrounding Cheesebridge caught my attention, I had a feeling about what I truly wanted to do. "Wow..." I whispered.

 _"Now's your chance."_ I heard myself say in my head. _"Run as fast as you can. Don't look back. If he catches you, you will never be free."_

"You must be very excited." My smile quickly disappeared and I turned around to see Mr. Snatcher tucking the keys away into an inner pocket in front of a presumedly locked door. I blushed a little in embarrassment. "I like being outside, sir. I miss it."  
Mr. Snatcher took my hand and pulled me aside so that he can bend over to straighten my hat, which had fallen crooked from all the excitement. "Well, if you behave, you just might have another opportunity."  
"Really?!" I asked, with an almost uncontrollable jump.  
"Yes, yes, now calm down," he replied grasping my shoulders tightly enough to put my back against the wall. "I-I can be calm..." I replied in a softer voice, blushing up.  
"Are you completely under control?" He asked seriously. I quickly nodded. Mr. Snatcher pulled out his watch and clicked it open. "Then, we must be off." He took my hand, held it tightly and we both walked away into town.

"Now my dear Pepper, if you're going to behave like a civilized girl, we must establish some rules for our little outings. For one, you shall always remain by my side. You know how I feel about you running off." His grip tightened. "For two, while I take your hand as we walk, you shall keep your other hand to yourself. This applies to all circumstances unless I allow it. For three, when speaking to other members of our society, you shall be pleasant and respectful, using 'sir' to men as you do with me, and 'Ma'am' or 'Miss' towards women, as I'd done with you. And please no raising of the voice or foul language. Do you understand?"  
"Yes, Mr. Snatcher," I replied. I unexpectedly squeaked when he took my cheek to make me look at him.  
"And let's keep the details of your time with me to ourselves, shall we? Out in public is no place for discussing such personal matters. And well behaved ladies wouldn't dream of breaking any of these rules, lest they be regarded as 'pests' by certain individuals and be treated as such." He showed me his ring of keys, forcing me to swallow a lump in my throat, and nod.

So in other words, don't walk away from Mr. Snatcher, don't touch a thing, be polite, and don't talk about being taken and caged.

"Yes, sir."

His demeanor made me feel as though these tasks were impossible. One little mistake and it could be back to the cage, because apparently that's where uncivilized pests belonged.

As Curd's Way turned into Milk Street, I could feel butterflies flutter inside my stomach. I hadn't been in town very long by this point, and I could feel a growing sense of self-consciousness at the idea of people seeing me. At first, I couldn't wait to show people how pretty I looked in the clothes I'd always wanted, but now that some would surely see, the idea of Mr. Snatcher walking beside me and keeping a tight hand on me made me blush. What would these snobby folks think? It was hard to tell.

Walking up Milk Street made me heave up and down from a lack of experience treading a hill as steep of Cheesebridge. London was flat and smelled like fish. This town was elevated and smelled like cheese. Opposites, if I'd ever seen them. But I wouldn't dare say a word about it. Mr. Snatcher didn't seem as though he even wanted to talk. He appeared to be in a happy enough mood when we came across a couple walking by. A middle class looking woman with her arm linked around a man was given a 'good afternoon' by Mr. Snatcher. The couple, who looked kindly enough, almost immediately noticed me. I waved to them and though they waved back, they looked confuse, if not a little shocked; not that I blamed them or anything

His cane made a 'tapping' sound as it touched the ground with each step he took. With his fancy, family owned accessory, his rings, tall hat, and velvet coat topped with a fur collar, I'd never seen a more impressive looking man, and I felt very intimidated.

I looked up at him as we walked and analyzed his fallen strands of hair. If those had been pulled back as well and his stubble removed, he would've looked even more impressive, but then there was that air about him; the one I'd always felt about him and consumed me with dread. Dignified and gentlemanly on top but downright scary underneath it all. He looked down at me, making me throw my head down, my self conscious blush still on my cheeks.  
"It's not polite to stare," he drawled. "I know. I'm sorry." He sighed almost in an almost pitiful 'you silly girl' sort of way.  
"You say that word so often."  
"What word, sir?"  
"'Sorry'. 'I'm sorry' this. 'I'm sorry' that. It's become annoying and repetitive. Sometimes a 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' is all that needs to be said."  
"Oh, I see. I'm so-oh! I mean, yes, sir." He rolled his eyes. "How do I know when to say 'sorry'?"  
"I shall make it evident for you. You still have a lot to learn about good behavior."  
"I'm trying as hard as I can, sir."  
"Well, don't try too hard. I don't want to hear complaining over a headache..." He looked back forward, at which I looked down, sporting a glare at him.  
"I saw that."  
I went wide eyed and slapped my hands to my face, covering it in embarrassment. I heard him chuckle but I dared not react to it.  
"...Ahh, here we are!"

Before I could answer my own question, I looked up to find that we'd arrived at a shop. At the front door was stood a long cylinder spiraling red, white, and blue.

"A barber shop?" I asked him.  
"I had an appointment today, and I certainly wasn't about to leave you at the factory alone. Come home to find you wandering about my factory poking your nose into my personal business? Goodness no."

I gave her a slightly defiant looked as he turned his head away from him and followed him inside. If he insulted me one more time...

 _"...oh wait. I can't do anything, can I?"_

"Pepper?"

A different voice made my stomach do a backflip. Mr. Snatcher had approached a man who was inside the shop, the barber I assumed, and I turned around almost sporadically. The voice sounded high pitch, yet male, as if coming from a very young boy. And lo and behold, upon turning, who did I find but the handsome redhead James Goudman, standing on the opposite side of the street all by himself, looking more surprised than anything else?

I hurried to the entrance of the barber shop, beaming at him and embracing the good kind of butterflies inside me because Mr. Snatcher never said I couldn't wave. Standing on the tips of my toes, I straightened my dress, hat, and stockings, and waved left and right, making it big and joyful-looking on purpose.  
"Pepper, what happened to you?" I pulled down my dress in modesty as my blush turned into that of flattery. I even twirled to give him a full view of my look. He didn't seem to notice that; his face still spelled bewilderment, by I didn't care. My heart fluttered at just his presence alone.  
"Where'd you get the..." He had put his hands to his mouth to increase his volume but his hands dropped and his face turned fearful. His frightened look confused me. I wanted to ask what the matter was, but then I remembered that I couldn't raise my voice. He backed away into the shop right behind him, and though I reached out my hand, longing to say something, someone spoke for me.  
"You go on home, boy. She hasn't the time to chat with you. Go on! Go!" James ran down the sidewalk and I stared hopelessly until he vanished from view. My cheeks reddened in anger, but I couldn't let him see it. He almost crushed my wrist in his hand when he pulled me back into the barber shop. Though his face looked pleasant, his tightening grip made me wince in pain.

"I'm awfully sorry about that, Mr. Crabs. When she's not being shy, she's being quite absent minded," Mr. Snatcher explained to a tall man with a large nose and ears. This man with his larger facial features was somewhere in the middle between Mr. Pickles and Mr. Snatcher; Not as lean as the former, but certainly nowhere near as thick as the latter.  
"Oh, so she is yours?"

Unfortunately.

"Why yes, she is! I found the poor thing living inside a barrel of all places the other night. All alone, no place to go, hungry, tired, vulnerable to those box pests: she was a sad little sight. As most are aware, it would've been against my ethics to leave such an innocent child at the mercy of monsters," he explained grandly, the knob of his cane pointing to his torso to emphasize. "...so I felt it was my personal responsibility to take her in, and raise her properly; help her become someone of value. All it took were some negotiations. Mr. Crabs, meet Miss Pepper Snatcher."

"I see. Well, that is just wonderful, sir!" I pondered over this man's strangely cheerful nature. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Snatcher!" The barber replied offering his hand. I reluctantly took it, and he kissed it, leaving me a little surprised.  
"Hello, Mr. Crabs sir, " I replied courteously. It was a little hard to, no thanks to the shaking at my knees.  
"So you're a family man now, sir? You've never seemed like the type," Mr. Crabs asked as they walked down the hallway together, with me close behind.  
"Beforehand, no. But these are desperate times for certain individuals, sir," Mr. Snatcher replied placing his hand on the top of my head, and glancing at me. I smiled nervously but I doubted that he believed it.  
"Desperate measures are called for, it seems. Besides, the young lady makes a wonderful companion."  
"I do?" I asked aloud. He gave me a convincing and I nodded. "I-I do! Thank you, Mr. Snatcher."  
Mr. Crabs looked back at me, causing Mr. Snatcher to touch me with the end tip of his cane.  
"Oh, you're still on last name terms, Miss?" The three of us eventually made it to a spacious room where there sat a barber's chair with a stand holding a tray of what I assumed were barber supplies. The room had a vast window and a spare set of chairs in front of it. I opened my mouth to say something.  
"Oh-ho, you must forgive her, my friend," Mr. Snatcher interjected. My mouth closed in disappointment. "The dear child is still readjusting to her new life as a fortunate young lady. Precious girl had no last name before we met. But I soon remedied that." Before sitting down, he took my shoulder, grabbing my attention and showed me his cane again. "Hold onto it for me while I shave, will you?" I reached for it, but he held it back. "And try not to break it," he said with a hint of a threat. "Oh no, sir." He took my hands and positioned them on the stick itself, turned me around, and subtly pushed me away, as he took his place in the chair. "You're welcomed to have a seat in the chairs, Miss Snatcher. This might be awhile."  
"Thank you."

Mr. Snatcher waved me away, causing Mr. Crabs to turn and begin work.  
"The usual, sir?"  
"Yes, clean shaven, but only shorten the sides. I've grown fond of them but keep them for too long and I'll start to look ill kept."  
"Of course, sir. Understandable."

As I sat in the chair, I watched Mr. Crabs mix a shaving brush into a tiny container, creating a lather inside it. After he started brushing the lather onto Mr. Snatcher's face, I rested my head on the palm of my hand and sighed, while my eyes traveled to the wooden floor.  
"Sit up straight and tall, Pepper. Don't be a slob," he said. My head lifted as he spoke with that usual judgmental look on his face. Sitting up straight, I focused my attention back on the clouds. "Umm, may I turn the chair around and look outside?"  
"I suppose so," he replied, keeping still while Mr. Crabs shaved his face.

One might think that watching a barber shave the face of Mr. Snatcher himself of all people would at least be a little interesting, but to me, it felt like a void of boredom except for the sounds of a blade running up and down the man's face. There was no music, no color in the room, and no conversation starters for me. It was mostly just Mr. Crabs saying 'yes' and 'of course' to Mr. Snatcher's ramblings about work and the people he didn't like.  
I turned my head towards the window with his cane still in my hands, and now resting on my lap. I looked down and watched some of the townsfolk pass by. A variety of people ranging in ages and assumedly classes based on their appearances alone made the town seem much more alive, and I smiled at the idea of being one of them.  
I recollected a thought I'd had the other day about leaving Cheesebridge and coming back a grown woman, unrecognizable by the Red Hats. Grown into grace and beauty, I imagined being greeted in gentlemanly and ladylike ways by all who met me. I would reintroduce myself as someone different than who I was at that moment. Not 'Pepper Snatcher' but a new Pepper, a stunning Pepper who could make friends with anyone I wanted to; picnics in the daytime and parties in the nighttime (if the Boxtrolls are gone by then of course). I sighed at my fantasy.

But then I frowned because that's what it was: a fantasy. The reality of the matter was that I was Pepper Snatcher, not of my choosing but of the choosing of a man, whose demeaning comments were making me feel worse and worse with each new word spoken.

The thought of it put a scowl on my face. Just because Mr. Snatcher was an important member of this society didn't mean that he had the right to belittle me...right?

I turned back to Mr. Snatcher, his face now clean and smooth, and Mr. Crabs. The latter was delicately snipping Mr. Snatcher's sideburns with a silver pair scissors, careful so as to avoid making a mistake. With a sweep of the shoulders from a brush different from the lathering tool from before, Mr. Crabs held up a mirror for Mr. Snatcher to look at his work.  
"Satisfactory, sir?"  
"Hmm...as usual." He gave Mr. Crabs two silver coins and stood up from the chair. Brushing his shoulders and pushing his hair behind his ear with his hands, we made eye contact.

"Come, Pepper. We're leaving."


	11. Chapter 10

Warning: This chapter is not for sensitive readers.

Free Pepper

Chapter 10

"You look very smart, sir."  
"Why thank you. That's exactly what I was hoping for."

I held Mr. Snatcher's elbow as we walked away from Mr. Crabs' shop. If I wasn't about to stare at him for very long and be deemed rude, then I could at least make eye contact with him when saying this and then keep my eyes on the dark gray clouds; surely staring at them wasn't an offense. My head twitched at an unexpected rain drop. I held out the open palm of my free hand. "I figured it'd rain." I kept twitching with each new drop. Even the townsfolk who stared at us scurried indoors. "Mr. Snatcher, what do you do at night when it's rainy?" He glanced at me like I was off my rocker. "I work! You think the Red Hats are going to allow _water_ deter us from our duties? I think not."

"You've never caught cold, sir?"  
"Bah, colds! I'm not bothered by such things. luckily, my men are required to be extremely adaptable. I wouldn't have hired them if I didn't think they could be."  
"Adaptable?"  
"To adjust."  
"Oh."

He shook his elbow away from my hand, causing me to flinch. "You on the other hand..." He lifted the side of his jacket closest to me, and pulled me towards him. "Who am I to let a lady be rained on?" My head, hat, and shoulder bumped into the side of his belly, and I awkwardly took my hat off so it wouldn't poke him. Holding it to my chest, I looked up to find me lingering in his coat. With the top of my head and shoulders were surrounded by deep red and one or two inner pockets, I felt sick to my stomach just for being this close to a man; one who really liked strong scented cologne. His legs touched my shoulders as we walked, making me flinch once more.

"You seem to jump at a moment's notice," he observed from outside.  
"I can't help it sometimes, sir...ever since I got here, I've felt nervous."  
"Do I make you nervous, little mouse?" I almost gasped. "W-w-well, I...uh..."  
"Yes?" he asked slyly, with a hand from the outside to my head. We both stopped at the entrance of the factory and I watched him put his other hand on my side of his jacket to pull out the keys from one of the pockets. But even then I couldn't give an answer.

"Mmh-hmm," he said. I watched him unlock the front door. He tapped my head, giving me the cue to walk inside. I took a breath of much fresher air and exhaled in relief. I stopped at a random spot in the factory and brushed my sweaty forehead.

"You've no reason to be nervous, Pepper." I turned my head to over my shoulder and watched him lock the door. "Unless, of course, you do something I just can't agree with. But you won't, I trust." I was apprehensive, but I kept my smile. "No."

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Now, have a seat. We have something to discuss."  
"We do that alot, sir. Talk about things?"  
"Too true," he laughed.

He strutted towards the table and I followed him, but before he sat down, he walked over to a counter, and pulled out that tall bottle and a glass. A little unsure, I just stood there by the table and watched. He growled a little at the cork that wouldn't come out until he finally yanked it out. I mostly studied the image the bottle had: a variety of fruit grouped together in a cluster. He took his seat back at the table and subtly shook the glass. "Pepper, come here." My eyes widened and I looked left and right. "Come on then," he continued, giving me a look of warning. I reluctantly walked up to him.

"Yes?" I asked. My shoulders rose as he took my sides. "Umm, sir, I-" He put a thin finger to my lips and shushed me. He lifted me, and the two of us sat there together, me on his lap, feeling a little worried. But his gaze never left me, and an image of me in my box kept me still; trembling, of course, but other than that, I did nothing.

"You'll have to forgive me for Mr. Crab's careful observation. I was so determined to make sure you behaved well, that I had forgotten one little detail," he suddenly said with a hand to my back. The idea to bite him flew out of my mind the moment he said that word. "Huh?" I asked surprisingly while he took a sip. "I hadn't considered the 'last name' terms you have had with me and my subordinates. As much as I hate to admit it, that dimwitted fool has a point. If I am to be your caretaker, maybe it is time you to begin addressing me as such, both in and out of doors."

"Father?"  
"You might as well, my dear. Those who live in this town will expect you to do so, and besides, haven't you always wanted one?" I pressed my finger to my cheek in thought. "Well...it's a little hard to say." "How?" he asked, as if offended. "From what you've said, it seems that acquiring the proper attire and a parent would solve many of your problems. You have both now, so you ought to enjoy it, as a grateful child should." I scratched my head in contemplation. "...I'm trying to be grateful. I've heard about kids not getting to do alot because nobody ever adopted them." "Well, then..." he took my hat and delicately placed it on the table. My gaze followed it, but he tilted my head back to him. "...aren't you special?" I put a hand to my chest. "Yes, you," he replied. His grin was awful slick, but I couldn't deny it or defy it. "Thank you..." I rubbed my neck timorously. "I thought you didn't like me."

Mr. Snatcher laughed. "'Didn't like you'?! Ridiculous!"  
"It is?"  
"Of course it is!"  
"But what about all those times you were...mean?"  
"Mean?!" He snarled and leaned forward like a shot cannonball, making me back away towards his knees, looking to the floor. He threw his head and laughed once more as he brought me back a little towards him, making my heartbeat quicken at what else he might say or do. Whether or not I should've been thankful or not was a mystery to me. "I kid, my dear," he chuckled. He took his hat off, and placed it beside my own. "In all seriousness, these 'mean' episodes you speak of are misunderstood. I have lectured you yes, but I do so to help you understand your place. We all have one. And yours is?"

"With you?" I asked innocently. He patted my head.

"Ah, you're learning. I'm very fond of you, Pepper. The way you try to be extra good just to please me. You listen and behave accordingly. And as long as you continue to do so, you will remain 'special'." I kept my smile, and I promise that it was genuine. "You really think I'm special?" He leaned forward, resting on his armrest in one hand, and his other hand now on my arm. "You were today, Pepper. And with my guidance and protection, you shall be again." "Does this mean I can go outside more often?" I asked him with a hopeful, excited look on my face. "I know I've said it before, but I really, REALLY miss it!" "As long as you're with me. I don't like you being all alone out there. But never you fear; I shall always know where you are."

My stomach tingled and my shoulders shrugged, yet I kept smiling. "Yeah...I hope you didn't mind me using your last name all those times." He waved his hand dismissively. "It is only natural to show respect to your superiors; that shall never end. Show respect and the same shall be returned," he explained, putting his finger to my chest. "Do you understand, my lovely mouse?"

My eyes opened a little wider in disbelief. My shoulders relaxed and my heartbeat decreased. All these promises, then 'special', and now the repeated 'lovely'. I nibbled my lip but it wasn't just in fear. I put my fist to my mouth in shock and disbelief. Mr. Snatcher seemed so untrustworthy, but I didn't really care anymore about that at the time. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his thick neck, with my cheek on his chest. He tilted his head back and his hands grasped their armrests, and I couldn't sense a smile in return, yet I never questioned it.

"Yes, Daddy."

I watched Father put on his red hat like a king crowning himself. "I shall see you in the morning," he said, making his usual grand exit. "Have a safe night," I replied, waving to him. I watched them all leave on their truck as always through a window, and very quickly hurried back to the table once they'd disappeared from sight. After washing all the messy dishes from supper, I stared at Father's special chair and I smiled.

He may be horrid at times, not to mention all I have now, but it delighted me to know that I'd finally earned his good graces (in his own intimidating way). As I stared at his chair, I swiped my finger across the wooden surface and observed its dust. I knew he liked it when I did things for him, like dusting his chair. Did he ever say I had to use a feather duster all the time? _"Not really..."_ I thought. I swiped more of the surface with my hand, making me get closer and closer, until without warning, I took a seat inside the chair itself. The seat was wide in comparison to my short, thin legs, but I could certainly see why he liked sitting here. Next to the plain rectangular chairs, the Boss Chair felt powerful. Touching my feet to its legs and sliding my hands on the armrests, I felt like a Royal. 'Princess Pepper' sounded simply magical to me. But for that moment, considering the conversation we'd had earlier, maybe 'Pepper Snatcher' wasn't so bad after all. The Fortunate Favorite of an Esteemed Gentleman was as close to 'Princess' as I was going to get, and I really ought to enjoy it.

I coughed a little and my eyes traveled about looking for something to drink, and I immediately thought of the bottle he chose from sometimes. I had wondered why grownups liked drinking something that looked more like grape juice than anything else. I stood up, pulled a plain chair from the table, and reached a high cabinet. I eyed the picture of fruit on the bottle, remembering that I'd seen it before. I pulled out the cork the way my Father had, and took a whiff. It smelled like juice. I took a cup from the cabinet and poured some. Despite my reluctance, I took a sip, and my stomach flipped over.

"It _is_ grape juice!"

I took the bottle and cup and brought it to the table. "Now what would Mr. Archibald Snatcher do?" I asked myself. I leaned back in relaxation, crossed my legs, and hummed. Looking at the pretend rings on my finger, I took another sip. "I say, old chaps...," I modified my voice to make it sound low and rumbling. "...those boxed pests are doomed! Once they're gone, Cheesebridge will find I'm all it shall need!" I gulped some more of the strange drink, the new flavor delighting me. "I am a great man." I pushed my hair behind my ear and gestured to myself with outstretched arms. "Certainly not like that Portley-Rind! I don't have to know his bloody wife or kid! I will take his title as the Most Respected Man..." I giggled with mirth. "...in the world! Wow this is strong." I finished my cup and poured some more. "Now, when I destroy those little monsters," I sipped a little more. "...I-I will have my White Hat...And effey-one'll bow and curtsssy to me like a Lord...A time honored tradisshhion-a..."

I could feel my stomach churn, so I placed my cup and the bottle to the side and blinked. I locked eyes with the stove and laundry line, and from what I could see, they both looked as if they were slowly turning, like a person in bed struggling to sleep. I finished my second glass of grape juice, and put my side of my head on the table. Here, I could feel a warm sensation in my cheeks, while the hanging cages a few feet away from me spun around. I groaned a little at the sickly feeling inside me, so I pushed the chair away and sickly slithered off. Wrapping my arms around my midsection, my legs grew weak and soon enough, I dropped to the floor. I laid on my front side and felt my head spin. "I-I-I...don't feel so go-"

...

My vision cleared back up after an unknown amount of time. I found blotches of varying grays that soon formed into the face of a man. The man's face was shaped like an upside down cone to me, which soon enough revealed a worried face that sighed profusely with relief. Though my eyes were half open, I found a ring of light surrounding the fellow's face.

"M-M-Mr...Pickles?"

"Oh, thank God."

He dabbed my forward with a moist washrag. "Sir?...Am I in...Heaven?" I asked, confused. "No, Miss. You're in your bed. I'm glad you're awake. I was awful worried that we'd lost you," he gently replied. He leaned forward a little bit, making me lean back in uncertainty. "Forgive me, but your eyes..." "What'sss wrong with 'em?" I weakly asked. "They're a dreadful red color, almost pink." I put my fist to them. "No, no, don't touch. That'll make them worse," he explained. "If you'll excuse me..." My eyes traveled all over the room, where I found sunlight coming through the windows as Mr. Pickles stood up from my bed and hurried out my bedroom door.

"She's awake, everyone! She's alright!"

I watched him leave, and my heart sank into my stomach, which still felt terrible. I put a hand to the dampened washrag, feeling it grow warm from my heated face. I noticed that I was still wearing my dress, but my stockings were sitting on my bed table, and my buckled shoes were placed in a corner by my cage. I turned to my cheek, with my back to my door, I closed my eyes trying to return to sleep. Everything was quiet for a little while.

"Miss?" I fluttered my eyes open at the sound Mr. Trout, who with Mr. Pickles and Mr. Gristle stood by me. I sat up in bed and felt my heart pound in my chest. "How are you feeling this morning?" Mr. Trout continued. "I don't feel good..." "What hurts?" "My stomach and my head."

Mr. Pickles put a bowl of porridge in my lap. "Thank you..." I muttered. I scooped up some of the hot cereal and started eating. "Miss, do you remember anything from last night?" Mr. Pickles asked. "I...sat down and got thirsty. And then I got sick and fell asleep."

"And?"

All of us, minus Mr. Gristle, turned to my door at that word. The little imp giggled, not having to turn to know who it was.

"Good morning, Daddy," I greeted with a hint of fear. His three men turned back to me, evidently not expecting that title. Mr. Snatcher leaned on the doorway, looking as if nothing was wrong. "Men, would you be so kind as to be dismissed for the morning? Pepper has to be feeling awful and must have her rest."

Mr. Pickles and Mr. Trout looked at each other cautiously. "Are you sure, Boss?" My Father rose his eyebrow. "Yes, now do as you're told. And don't touch the mess downstairs," he replied pointing to the hallway. Mr. Gristle grumbled and left, followed by a worried looking Pickles and Trout. As soon as all three of them were out of the room, Father closed my door and locked it, and then turned all with his hands behind his back. He spun back around and took a wide step towards me while I timidly at my breakfast.

"Pepper, dear, I found the strangest thing this morning when my men and I returned from work. When we came into the factory, we smelled a horrible stench coming from our table, and what do we find, but a little girl sprawled out on the floor with a fallen glass and bottle?" he explained in a dramatically melancholy way. "And trickling from the poor soul's mouth was undoubtedly, some...regurgitation..." He explained with noticeable disgust.

"And no matter what we did, we just couldn't wake the little darling up, so Mr. Trout brought her up here to rest and allow herself to wake up on her own time." He leaned forward put a hand to my forehead, and quivered his lip. "But now our Sleeping Beauty is awake...a bit warm...but awake."

He stood up straight and tall and revealed his still hiding hand, revealing an object that made me feel queasy just as I looked at it.

"Know what this is?" He asked, his attitude neither obviously sad, concerned, angry, or otherwise.

"Grape juice, sir?" I replied.

"Wine, my dear," he explained, still remaining calm. "An alcoholic beverage for mature individuals such as myself. Certainly not for someone as young and ill composed as..." His gaze grew cold and reprimanding. "...little Pepper Snatcher. Whatever gave you the idea that this was little more than juice?" He said that last word with contempt.

"Alcoholic?"

"Hmm, I see..." Planting the bottle on the floor, his free hand on my bed right next to me, I pulled my sheets over and up to my nose. "...You don't know much of anything, do you? All you know seem to truly know is what I've told you; including a very important rule I gave you just two days ago, and yet you don't even seem to know how to follow them. Didn't I tell you not to touch anything of mine?" I rubbed my neck at his horrible gaze upon me. "I wanted to dust your ch-chair and I s-started to and-"

SLAP!

His rings dug into my skin upon the back of his hand's impact with my cheek, sending my head falling and hitting one of the corners of my bed table. I fell silent, except for the deep breaths moving my torso up and down. Taking my face into his free hand, he made me look at him. His grasp was quite firm this time, but still just as cold as before.

"Don't lie to me."

I hid my face with my arms in shame. I could feel the soreness from his hand on me, especially the places affected by the hard rings on his fingers. He let out a frustrated sound. "You don't respect me."

"Yes I do!" I cried, daring to look at him with my tear stained face. "I-I thought it wouldn't matter 'cause you called me a 'Snatcher' yesterday! I just thought it was a nice drink only fancy people could get, so when you called me a 'Snatcher', I thought...I'd...try it." The more I spoke, the more foolish I sounded, so I closed my mouth and turned my head away from him in shame.

"I figured as much," he responded. "Though we haven't known each other for very long, I've managed to learn a bit about you. You're a careless little thing I can't take my eyes off of for too long. What should I do, little one?" He ran his fingers through my hair using his usual low tone of speaking. "Must I purchase a collar for you?" I shot my head up at his face, a mixture of pity and disappointment. I gasped when his hand took my neck. "Should I place it around your neck and keep a short leash in my hand, so that I may walk you, train you, and have you sleep at the foot of my bed like a pet?"

"No, no, no, sir! Please not that!" I came to my knees, begging and pleading. "I'll be a good girl! I won't do anything ever, ever again!" My bent knees, as if bowing, cries for mercy, and head down, like a subject acknowledging her king, made him smile. His eyes traveled up and down while his grin at my groveling at him as if he were the Royal in question.

"Pepper," he resumed. "I shan't put a collar and leash on you. You are not a beast." I sighed in relief.

"You are, however, a child in need of a punishment, and seeing as though you've left me no choice..." I slowly shook my head. "...you are a Snatcher now; therefore you shall be disciplined like one," his voice suggested a growing anger that grew stronger with every little centimeter he took towards me. He suddenly revealed the hand that had been hiding behind his back this whole time, and inside it was a thick brown belt and buckle. "I am going to get through to you."

Taking my arm with his free hand, he took my sheets off me, flipped me and my dress over, but before I could even try to block my jockey shorts from his view, my last glance of him reminded me of a crazed man ready to strike a child with a wrench. I knew any defense on my part was pointless.

For the next ten minutes, there was nothing but pain. Every smack to my back, behind, and legs felt like a merciless onslaught of wasp stings. These swift, yet stinging pains in my skin made me scream and shout for mercy, all of which fell upon the deaf ears of my Father. The attacks made me hold onto the sheets for dear life, believing that if the punishment ended, something worse might happen. Each minute felt like an eternity, making me believe during the ongoing madness that it would go on until I was nothing but dust. Eventually I was flipped over, and the pain seared into the front of my legs and my bare stomach, again like multiple eternities of hurt and anguish, with the only comfort to be found was the soft textures of my pillow and sheets. My eyes stayed closed shut because I couldn't bear to look at anything. After several minutes, I couldn't feel anything, but I trembled in horror that maybe it would return. His hand delicately pulled back down my dress and sat me up in my bed. My red, puffy eyes could barely look at him as he picked up his bottle and pointed to my door. I slowly pushed myself out of bed and followed him out of my room and down the hallways and staircase. My weakened legs almost gave out several times but the gaze he would throw back at me kept me up and walking. He took me down the stairs where I detected but barely reacted to the smell of my vomit. Pushing the mop into my chest, he pointed to the mess.

"Just look what you've done, Pepper."

He told me as I mopped up the mess with soap and water in a bucket. He sat in his chair with his feet propped up on the table. His hands held a refilled glass of the drink that got me into the mess. As his hands and cup rested atop of his stomach, he watched me like a hawk. And I did it all in silence. When the floor was to his liking, he opened up a window for me to dump the mixture of bodily fluid and water and tugged me back over to the steps. I stood before him at the bottom of the steps with my head down, overflowing with shame.

"Have we learned anything today?"

I nodded to him.

"You'll always understand your limitations, and follow my rules and respect them, won't you?"

I nodded again.

He put his hand to my forehead again. "Stay in your room until tomorrow morning and please don't come out. We may not care for colds but I'd still hate for me and my men to catch your illness" I turned to climb up the stairs but he touched my shoulder one last time and cleared his throat.

"Yes, Father."

The walk back to my own bed felt more like a journey. My sore and weary body clouded my head, making the world around me blur and contort. I could feel my energy levels deplete the closer I got to my room. My knees trembled as I finally reached for my door, pushed it open and entered my room. The very last of my strength was dedicated to my climbing into bed, taking off my dress, and tucking myself into bed in my shorts, because I was too weak to do anything else. I was alone for the rest of the day. No visits, no supper, no medicine or even any words, except for the thoughts in my head, before I fell asleep, over how stupid I was, risking the loss of Archibald Snatcher's favor so soon after earning it.


	12. Chapter 11

Free Pepper

Chapter 11

In the three months following the Wine Incident, I was indeed put on a short leash; metaphorically speaking, if I'm being honest. Every day felt like a never ending challenge to keep Archibald Snatcher, my Father, in a constant good mood. In doing so, I more or less picked up each rule that I should've realized my first few days there. Even though no one wrote these rules down for me, they became pretty obvious, even to "delicate", "small minded" Pepper. They were as follows:

1\. Mr. Snatcher had the final word on everything.

2\. No visitors allowed in the factory unless invited by Mr. Snatcher.

3\. I can't touch anything that specifically belongs to Mr. Snatcher.

4\. I will do whatever the Red Hats ask of me, with Mr. Snatcher as my top priority.

5\. When on outings, I will be respectful and stay by Mr. Snatcher's side.

6\. The Basement and Mr. Snatcher's Private Quarters are off limits unless specified.

7\. I will greet the Red Hats every morning and see them off every evening.

8\. I can neither talk to nor participate in the extermination of the Boxtrolls. Ever.

Thankfully, Mr. Pickles, Mr. Trout, and Mr. Gristle very rarely took advantage of these rules. One of the few instances I can think of as I write this was on a day in which I was assisting Mr. Pickles in some cooking and when I told him I'd never cooked a day in my life, he asked me to read the cook book he'd been using and point out the ingredients so that I could understand the ins and outs of the recipe. I also recall a day in which Mr. Trout had asked me to pull out a book of my liking. Some of the larger words were a little hard to pronounce, so he had me repeat each sound from them to help me understand. I also remembered a day on which Mr. Gristle showed me how to clean the aquarium of leeches. With his seemingly limited vocabulary, I learned that once a week, he used a special tube he'd stick inside the water to clean it, much like that of a fishbowl. The only part I didn't really care for was the two of us bent over for about an hour, hovering over the tank while maintaining it, but all in all, it was definitely the highlight of that day. Activities with the three of them were pretty enjoyable all things considered. When my Father was either in his Private Quarters or on an outing by himself, the four of us would stay behind and play 'Charades' or card games. My favorites were always 'Go Fish' and 'Speed'. I learned very quickly that Mr. Gristle was a Master when it came to games, and as a result, he seemed to win each one. I once asked Mr. Trout why they would play, knowing that Mr. Gristle would always win.

"I believe it's just to entertain ourselves, Miss," he explained. "We don't really mind who wins. It gives us something to do when we're not working."  
"I guess that makes sense," I replied. "When I was in London, I used to explore for fun. I liked that. I think everyone oughta have fun, don't you?"  
"Well, sure...I believe one way to put it is...all work and no leisure is like a paper bag flying about on a blustery day. When will the hustle and bustle finally stop?" Mr. Trout shrugged. "Hard to know, Miss." I smiled at him and shrugged too.

Other times, Mr. Trout, Mr. Pickles, and/or Mr. Gristle would be sent on outings, and when they were, I would always ask my esteemed, smart, oh-so-wonderful Father if I could pretty please go with them in an effort to get out of the factory for some fresh air, he would let me go with them, as long as I followed the same 'outing' rules: don't leave them and be respectful as always. Granted, it only happened if he was feeling kind.

Mr. Snatcher's outings were very different from those of his men. His errands were quite frankly the only things we did and they typically involved whatever appointments he had scheduled. It was all whatever he either needed or wanted to do; quite boring, but even I wasn't stupid enough to tell him that. When I went out with Mr. Pickles, Mr. Trout, and Mr. Gristle, there was at least a little more freedom. We usually went out to get groceries from the Market Square for the kitchen area: mostly tea bags, vegetables, beef, unmade broth, and Extra, Extra Mild Cheddar, but afterwards, if we had time, sometimes we'd look inside the retail stores and point at random items. Mr. Pickles would watch me run around a toy shop we found on Gouda Lane. Mr. Trout liked looking at the books inside a bookstore on Mozzarella Avenue and would even help me find some children's books for me to practice reading. Mr. Gristle would often point out a variety of swords and guns in a weaponry store on Provolone Place. As much as I was a little apprehensive about being there, a trip into this store with Mr. Gristle was better than being stuck in a factory with my Father anytime.

I say that because whenever his men weren't around, and it was just me and him, usually one of three things would be happening. I'd either be working on some unfinished chores, trying to keep myself from dying of boredom in my room, or on a usual outing with Mr. Snatcher. I could tell that the never ending journey I spoke of was to resume whenever he would come in with his 'I didn't catch a Boxtroll' face. The moment I see it, that's my cue to just stand there, fully dressed in one of my day dresses and await for him to tell me to do something. Sometimes, he'd just write down my list of responsibilities for the day and that'd be it before he'd go upstairs. Other days, he wouldn't even let me wait. 'Pepper, bring this.' 'Pepper, do that.' And his tone was either one of two emotions: tired or infuriated, and because I kept trying to prove to him that I was indeed smart, despite how much he disagreed, I always kept myself a few steps away from him.

If he had caught a Boxtroll, then while he would provide a list of things for me to do most of the time, he was always much nicer. 'Pepper, please bring this.' 'Pepper, please sit down so that I can talk to you about my successful night.' And I would always nod and acknowledge how grand he was to take on such a task. Most of those mornings ended with a pat on my head and dishes to clean, but as long as he was happy, that was what mattered.

That's why one particular memory that comes to mind troubles me a little bit. One morning, I woke up at the sound of my alarm as usual and the first thing that came to mind was to hurry up even faster than usual. Because on this certain day, three months after the Wine Incident, there was one thing I had to ask him, and I hoped that he had caught a Boxtroll, because that confirmed most of the time that he would be in a good mood, and much more likely to let me speak.

It was 5AM when my alarm clock woke me up, so that I could get started. It was a little hard to, but I managed to sit up, rub my eyes and slide out of bed. "Today's the day!" I cried. Slipping a blood red work dress, light brown pinafore, and black stockings and laced shoes, I could almost feel myself burst from excitement. "I'm going to ask him!" I tied up my laces and my hair as tightly as possible. Fluffing up my hair and bow on my head, I scurried down the steps in anticipation. "Don't have much time. Don't have much time!"

Despite the fact that I couldn't touch his personal belongings, I was glad to know that I could touch food, the kitchenware and the table and chairs, minus my Father's. I pulled out three eggs and a plate on the counter, and a frying pan and placed them on the stove. I vigorously shoveled some coal into it, pushed a plain chair towards it so that I could heat it, pulled the plate toward me, and cracked the eggs. I hummed a little song to myself as I watched the eggs sizzle. My heartbeat increased at the possibility of what he might say at my request. Looking at him and talking with him was hard enough, but making him happy was a challenge in and of itself.

"I hope he says 'yes'! I hope he says 'yes'!..." I cried as I placed the cooked eggs on the plate and placed it on the table, but then I stopped. "No he won't...but it's worth a try...is something missing?"

I placed a paper flower I'd made the day before in a dry empty vase and placed it in the center of the table. As I stared at the table, wondering what possibly be missing, I tightened my bow and straightened my dress and sat at the table in a plain chair.

That man will be coming through that door any minute now.

The sudden sound of a motorcar engine could be heard from right outside the door. My heart flipped over when the sound receded and was replaced by clacking footsteps.

 _"Please have a Boxtroll. Please have a Boxtroll."_

The jingling of keys and the opening of the door brought me to my feet. "Good morning! Welcome home, Father!" This greeting was much more heart felt than usual because as he came in, he strutted in like a King approaching his throne. And he only did that when...yes! In one hand he held a trembling box, squeaking and gurgling in misfortune. I almost bursted with delight myself, but I just couldn't, so I didn't. I hurried up to him and kept my smile, which I swear was real and genuine. As he was about to walk past me, my eyes met the little shaking box, but I quickly bowed my head and took a step back. In the corner of my eye, I could sense his smile at my gesture. At times like these, I felt as though I couldn't even look at those creatures, for fear of offending him. I watched his body instead as he approached a hanging cage, unlocked it, and placed the creature inside. When I heard the clicking sound of his locking the cell, I pulled my own head up and suddenly remembered the task at hand.

"I trust your night went good, Father!"  
"'I trust your night went 'well', Pepper. 'Good' is improper."  
"Oh...right...umm, I made you breakfast." I took his hand and rubbed it tenderly. "Look!" I directed him to the table. I showed him my flower. "Mr. Trout showed me how to make these yesterday. Isn't it pretty?" I asked with a smile. He pulled his hand out of mine and merely glanced at it.  
"T'is only paper," he stated matter-of-factly.

My face fell for just a moment before I cleared my throat and put the vase back on the table. "May I fix you something to drink, sir? A glass of brandy? A sherry? Or even water perhaps?" He barely looked at me as he sat down and glanced at what I made for him. "Pepper, your memory baffles me. I tell you not to touch those things and yet you ask if you could prepare glasses of them?"

My stomach flipped over. "Oh, yes, you're right! S-sorr-I-I mean you're right, of course." I blushed a terrible red color. "But a glass of water I have no qualm against," he continued. I smiled and rushed to the cupboard to fetch a clean glass. At the time, I didn't even think to question his suspicious gaze following me. Within a minute I held out a tall glass of water for him, with extra ice just as he liked it. He warily took it and finally actually looked at me.  
"Can I do anything else for you, sir?"  
"Sit down."

I immediately fell into a plain chair. "Yes, I can sit!" I smiled and kicked my legs in a carefree style as he finally started eating. With the occasional sip of water, I nibbled my lip and what he could have possibly been thinking. "Father, I-"  
He held up one finger and my lips closed instantly. The next few minutes felt more like hours as he took his precious time cutting the eggs and eating them one by one. _"I hope they taste alright,"_ I thought to myself. _"If they're not..."_

I rubbed my neck.  
"Do you like them?"  
"Awful bland and a little burned...some salt would've been nice," He replied. I rubbed my neck vigorously. So that was what was missing? He smiled. "And a little pepper, Pepper." He chuckled a little as he poked my chest, and I kept smiling, despite my slight aggravation at his sense of humor. "Quite conditional, as well."  
"Huh?"  
He ran his napkin across his lips and was silent for another minute or so. My gaze traveled left and right. "You might as well tell me what you're hoping for. That ridiculous smile and this attempt to impress me is all the indication I need."

My smile dissolved as he said this, so I squared my shoulders and took a breath. "Nothing gets past you, Father." I cleared my throat. "So..." I placed a hand on his arm. "Can you guess what a week from today will be?" I asked as innocently as I could.  
"Hmm, October 14th, of course. Two weeks 'til All Hallows' Eve," he replied once more in that matter of fact kind of tone. "Well..." I resumed. "...yes, there's that. But there's one more thing!" I leaned forward, my arms linked to his arm adoringly. "It'll be my birthday, sir!" I giggled amidst my announcement. I leaned back and spread my arms wide. "I'll be seven years old!"

Despite my delightful outburst, he just seemed...unimpressed...at least for a minute before he grinned again. He put a finger to his chin in thought. "Seven, you say? Really?" I nodded gleefully. "Well, I suppose that is a reason to be excited." I nodded my head joyfully. "Yes, yes it is!" I replied. I must not have noticed how close I was to him, because he soon enough took my arm himself and peeled it off of him. I quickly took a step back and inhaled a deep breath. "Father, I'm turning seven, and I was wondering if I could, well...if you could..." He raised an eyebrow. I suddenly felt a cold rush over me. "...j-just...umm..." He rolled his eyes, sighed, turned away for a minute, put his knife and fork on the plate, and stood back up. "Pepper, Father is awfully tired. If you must ask something of me, I recommend that you quit the mumbling and just say it." I frowned while he gave me a frustrated look. He turned away and carried the plate and silverware to the sink.

"I want you to take me to the Toy Shop!"

His head had been pointed down as he placed the dishes in the sink, but at the sound of my outburst, he glanced straight ahead and locked eyes with me.

"...what?..."  
"I-I was just wondering since it'll be my birthday, I had hoped that maybe I could-we could-go and I could pick something out that I really like. I've tried so hard to be good like you want, and..."

Snatcher didn't seem to show much of a reaction as he looked at me and soon enough, walked back towards the table, and sat in his chair, cross legged.  
"And you want me to take you?" He asked. I approached him cautiously and nodded silently. Folding my hands as if praying and smiling sweetly, I watched him for a minute. He stroked and tapped his chin with his pointer finger and hummed. My knees began to knock at the way he'd just let me stand there with no answer, looking me up and down as if he were teasing me. I never put it past him. He smiled at me, with eyes that appeared warm, but as I'd come to learn, I could never be without doubt.

"Pepper, come here," he beckoned to me. I sighed and approached him a little more. "Yes, sir?" "Turn around."

With my back facing him, I softly gasped as he took the end tips of my hair into the palm of his hand and studied it. I looked over my shoulder with worry and confusion.  
"Yes..." He replied.  
"Father?" I asked smiling hopefully. He turned me back around with his hands clutching my shoulders.  
"My dear, if you'll do one last little thing for me," he resumed, pointing to himself daintily. "I shall spend my hard earned money on one item of your choosing."

"Oh, thank you, Daddy! Thank you! THANK YOU!" I hurried to his side and hugged his neck gently. He leaned back upon impact as I rested my cheek on his chest for about a minute, not really caring about his strong cologne or his arms laying away from me, rather than returning my embrace.  
"Ahem."

My eyes opened and I looked up at him. His annoyed look made me let him go and take a step back. "Excuse me, Sir." "Hmm, that's better..." he said. I nibbled a lip as he took his jacket and reached into one of his inner pockets. "Let's be prompt and take care of that 'one little thing' right now."

My nibbling lips smiled again. "What do I need to do, sir?"  
His eyes trailed back at me and he returned my smile with a crooked one of his own. "Pepper, Father needs something from you," he admitted, pulling a sympathetic face. I nodded in understanding.

"It is for a little...experiment...of mine that I've had on the brain for awhile now; Even before I'd found you, and I want you to assist me."

"How?" I asked.

"The first thing I need from you is your hair..." He almost hissed, drawing out that last sentence.

My smile faded. As Snatcher ran his fingers through it, I looked at my hair, and even touched it. "My hair?" I asked. "Just for this one time, my dear. And then I won't bother you about it anymore," he replied. "It's such a lovely red color, and..." He turned me around again. "...it would make me so happy. You want me to be happy, don't you?"

"Oh, of course!" I looked back over my shoulder one last time.  
"Well then," he rumbled, pulling a knife out of his pocket; one I'd never seen before. I stared at it momentarily, and turned my head back around.

From behind, I could hear soft 'sheering' sounds. I glanced back for just an instant. My whole insides flipped over at the very sight of his sharpening it. Once he examined the knife, nodded, and smirked approvingly, I swiftly looked away, and caught a glimpse of my long hair one last time. His clacking footsteps seemed just as, if not more, awful than before.

"I...love you, Father."  
"I know, darling, I know..."

...

I looked like a boy.

That was my first thought after it was said and done. Father had gone to his room with my hair in his hands, and gave me the day off from my usual chores. But even with my day long freedom, I couldn't look away from my bathroom mirror.

My head had become nothing but a short awkward tuft of hair. I picked up a hairbrush to try to tame it and though it looked a little more organized after a few strokes, it still felt strange. The back of my neck felt a little cool and my head felt much lighter. I smiled at those feelings, so it must have been the look that bothered me. But if Father was happy, I should be happy...

I turned around and, as if right on cue, I yawned as I caught sight of my bed. I sat there at the foot of it and rubbed my neck. I had a staring contest with my closet as an idea came to mind.  
"Well, Pepper, girl, look at yourself...well, even more than before. What's everyone going to think? A girl with short hair?" I asked myself as I opened my closet door. I picked out my own red hat and a nicer looking 'outing' dress and hummed.  
"Bows won't be easy to wear now, huh?" I continued. I walked inside it and pulled out a frilly red bow. I placed it on top of my head and grumbled. I wasn't about to pull one of these off.

 _"Not with this hair,"_ I thought. But as I stepped around the closet, something happened.

Tap.

"Ow!"

I looked down at what stubbed my toe, and there right below was a small leather bound book, marked 'Journal' in gold letters. As it often did, curiosity got the better of me. Coughing at the dust flying around its old looking pages, I opened it up. Strangely enough, the first page was blank, save for one little paragraph of text in the upper left corner.

 _"To those who write to stay sane."_

My eyes widened at a certain memory I'd almost forgotten, and it gave me an idea.


	13. Chapter 12

Free Pepper

Chapter 12

" _Dear Genevieve –"_

I began to write in crude handwriting on the first page of the journal.

 _I'm sorry we didn't talk in 3 months. Well, I found this town, Cheesebridge. It's a huge town on a big hill, south of London. I saw my new father the first night I was there, and he's really tall and fat and creepy! But he's also really important. He's got a velvet coat with a fur collar, the tallest red hat in the whole town, and someday, he's going to trade it for a White Hat, the best hat you can have here. His name is Archibald Snatcher, and he's a very important gentleman. He caught me the second night I was here, and he took me away to his house. I just had to go with him! It's a factory, but he calls it his home. He really scares me, but he made me his daughter and even gave me the new dress and buckled shoes I always wanted. I think he may have taken the money you gave me, but I don't want to say anything. He can be awful mean sometimes. I think I'll just leave it alone. He's super picky and wants me to be good and perfect. But he and his men are going to be my new family! Mr. Snatcher is the Boss, then there's Mr. Pickles, Mr. Trout, and Mr. Gristle._

 _So here I am in my new home. It's very different than the orphanage on the Thames River. The Red Hats are a nice family. Every evening, they pile into their big motorcar and hunt boxtrolls, monsters I saw the first night I was there! They looked nice, but Father says they really stole an inventor and his son and ate them up! They added their flesh to their rivers of blood and mountains of bones! At least, that's what Father says, and he's always right. Mr. Pickles is my favorite Red Hat. He's really nice and showed me how to do laundry. I like it when he gets to take me to the market with him. We have to buy extra, extra mild cheddar, because Father and his men like to play 'Pretend White Hats', where they sit around and eat cheese, like the White Hats, who decide stuff for the town, though it's mostly cheese tasting. It never ends well, but Father loves to do it._

 _I don't think anyone in this town knows how to use their hats right, but no one is perfect. Mr. Trout taught me how to read and write bentter. He got me a library card and takes me there when Father says I can. Sometimes, Mr. Gristle will take me to a weapons store to look at nets and guns; now, that's fun._

" _I'd better go now. I know I should be happy here. What's wrong with me?_

" _Love, Pepper Snatcher"_

I tried as hard as I could to rip the pages out of the journal as delicately as I could. Apart of me had told me to just stuff it in my drawers, but as I looked at it, I shook my head. I stepped out of my bedroom, and from the hallway, heard Snatcher snoring from his Private Quarters. Beyond my bedroom were two more doors; the door to his office, and the second was his bedroom. To go into his office was just as unthinkable as his stepping in his Private Quarters. Two secretive worlds of their own in an otherwise strange town, I could only imagine what Archibald Snatcher did in the quiet of his own sanctuaries. Snoring loudly was apparently one. I couldn't help but giggle as I tiptoed away in the opposite direction. I stared down at my papers as I reached the steps.

He didn't like secrets…from me anyway. I could never keep one from him for long, if that first week had been any indication. I suddenly froze at the thought of the Strap; those terrible strings from the leather and marks from its buckle made my hands just shake. _"If he knew I was talking to someone without his say so…"_ I stood there on the stairs for a terribly long time. I whipped around to run, but I couldn't move then either. My heart rate increased at his face alone; Archibald Snatcher in my head looming over an almost-seven year old girl, clutching that terrible belt in his grasp.

But then I thought of Genevieve; her gentle face, sweet demeanor, the way other gentleman tipped their hats to _her_ for her family's own respectability. I folded my letter and clutched it tightly. "Father loves respect. He'd be happy if I'm still Genevieve's friend…"

I widened my eyes and nodded. Hurrying down the steps, I searched through the dining area's drawers and eventually found an empty envelope. I inserted the letter, sealed it and sprinted to the door. However, once I reached it, I had to stop once more.

" _You can't leave without him. He'll surely kill you if you set foot outside."  
_ "No! He promised, he wouldn't."  
 _"Maybe so, but he'll put you in your box again. He'll never let you see the light of day again."_  
"He hasn't done that since-"  
 _"He kept you from leaving the first time. You'll never be free again. Genevieve is lost to you fore-"_  
"SHUT UP!"

I threw my head down, shut my eyes tightly, and plastered my hands to my face.

"…Miss?"

The wide pair of plates on my face were my eyes, opened and huge. I looked up and before me stood Mr. Pickles. The kindly beanpole had emerged from the front door and held up his hand, as if ready to say something. He noticed my letter, and the moment I had too, I furiously sprinted away. "Miss Pepper? Miss Pepper, come back!" I tripped and fell in an attempt to pause. "OW!" I cried out. The letter flew out of my little hands as I collided with the ground.

For a moment, I laid there in silence on the boarded floor, and all I could hear was another small voice.

"…hello…"

My eyes fluttered open at the sound. It wasn't me, and it wasn't the voice in my head. It was…someone else…

"Oh good heavens!" Mr. Pickles cried as he followed after me. He knelt before me and lightly took my hands as I tried to sit up. I tried so hard to fight back my tears, but who was I kidding then? "Whatever's the matter, Ma'am?" Mr. Pickles asked. I shook my head. "N-nothing!" I exclaimed. "Miss, would you please tell me?" he asked.

I nibbled my bottom lip, because I had to do whatever the Red Hats asked of me.

"P-p-please don't tell Mr. Snatcher! If he finds out I want to send a letter, he'll-he'll," I covered my mouth in disbelief. "Oh there, there, I-" the man replied. His face contorted into genuine confusion. "Miss, what on Earth happened to your hair?" he asked. I blushed as my thin fingers ran through its short strands. "Umm, my Father snipped it off." The man was taken aback. "...how come?" "He said he needed it for an 'experiment'," I explained.

He picked up the letter and unfolded it. Pepper quickly dashed up and stole it back from him. I held it tight to my chest and stepped away from him. "Miss Pepper, is that for a friend of yours?"

I nodded regretfully. "…back home, sir." He smiled once more. "Ah! You must want to let them know you're doing alright, huh?" I nodded again. Mr. Pickles climbed to his feet and pulled me up gently with his hand. "I think we have some spare envelopes and stamps and whatnot." "…really?" "Yes, Ma'am. Here, let me see the envelope?" He asked. I watched him examine it, as if looking for errors. "Miss, you forgot the stamp!" He pulled out a random one from a drawer and stuck it to the left corner of the envelope. "We good guys need to send a good envelope with our letters." "Using stamps is considered a heroic thing?" "Well…when you mail letters, I suppose," Mr. Pickles replied in his own carefree way.

Mr. Pickles always was passionate about heroics.

He pulled out an inkwell and quill. "Now, who are we sending this to?" "Miss Genevieve Gutierrez, daughter of Lord Gutierrez." "Genevieve Gutierrez? Isn't she your wealthy friend from London?" "Well, she's from Spain, but she and I became friends when she sailed into the Thames with her parents earlier this year." "Ah, that's right, Mr. Snatcher told us you'd mentioned that to him."

I gave him Genevieve's address and stared at his penmanship. While Father's appeared quite elegant and practiced, Mr. Trout's seemed too small for comprehension, and Mr. Gristle's looked huge and choppy, his seemed more like continuous loops, rather than actual letters. "I hope I can write as well as you and Father someday." Mr. Pickles shrugged. "Well...I don't think mine is that bad. The Boss' is far better than mine." I shrugged in return. "I guess, " I replied. "...Mr. Pickles?" "Yes, Miss?" "When I fell just now, I think I heard voices." "Voices?" "Yeah...one in my head...and one outside of my head. The second one said 'hellooo'," I explained. The man suddenly fell stiff, as if he'd just said a terrible word. He nervously glanced at my letter and then at me. "Oh, not to worry, it was me, you see. I wanted to see if you could hear me! When you didn't, I said 'good heavens!' and helped you up."

His toothy grin still remained a little stressed, and I parted my lips to ask more questions. "B-but anyway! I'd better send this letter for you! Wouldn't want to take you with me and scare the Boss." "Scared?" I asked. "Well...as scared as someone like the Boss can be." "Ah, OK, that makes more sense." Mr. Pickles pulled out an old silver watch from his pocket (not quite like the fancy gold one Mr. Snatcher used), and saw the time. "Well, if I leave for the post office now, with no detours, I should be back for curfew. Then, if we have time, I can help you make supper for you and the Boss." "Really? You can do that?" "Why not? The Boss can be quite..." he lowered his head to my ear. "...stingy-" he said in a gentle whisper. "Oh..." "...when it comes to this sort of thing. Lately I've been meaning to ask you if you wanted help anyway, so I'll be happy to oblige, if you want it." "Oh yes, Mr. Pickles! I want to make Father happy! He's hardly ever pleased with my cooking, and I've always been too scared to ask him for help. Besides, he's always busy with business stuff anyway."

Mr. Pickles frowned. The Boss was always so terribly busy, wasn't he? He gave me a determined look and a nod. "I'm sure the Boss won't mind if I helped a little. Here, let me go to the postman; then, I'll come back to help! Maybe in the meantime, you can dust the kitchen table, chairs, and counter. That'll definitely make the Boss happy." "OK!" I replied, scurrying away to work.

I watched Mr. Pickle she until he had closed the door, completely gone. "How exciting!" I squeaked to myself. If I learned how to cook properly, maybe Father will be nicer, then maybe I'll finally be happy here. Right?

Only time would tell.

As I pulled out the feather duster, I suddenly remembered something else. My seventh birthday...I grinned at the very idea of what I could find. Maybe a pristine porcelain doll with bright beautiful eyes and deep red lips; maybe a classic, like Tiddlywinks or Marbles. I could only imagine. That was all I could think of, so much so that the next time I heard something, I merely dismissed it as my thoughts and nothing more.

"Helloooo..."


	14. Chapter 13

Free Pepper

Chapter 14

On the morning of October 14th, I woke up as a seven year old. I hurried out of bed quicker than usual that day to find the prettiest dress I had. I couldn't feel any change in me, that didn't stop my stomach from fluttering at the idea of how the day was meant to go.

I picked out a red dress with puffed long sleeves, my flat red girl's hat, pure white stockings, and my favorite pair of shiny black shoes. Though my hair was still as short as a boy's, I tried to comb it as nicely as I could all the same. I examined my look as well as I could, because Father insisted on perfection and neatness. For his sake as well as my birthday's, I'd give him as much perfection as I could. I was quite proud of the white bow that sat proudly on her chest, lined with white buttons from there up to my neck. I cleared my throat and as I looked into my full bodied mirror. Taking a deep breath, I quietly left my room. As I walked down the hallway, just like any other day, I suddenly froze before I could reach the top of the steps. I could hear footsteps, the grumbling of masculine voices, and a loud winding sound. The walls around me rumbled as the sound progressed.

I warily approached the top of the steps and dropped my jaw in shock. The floor was moving. Though some of the floor was made of concrete, the center of it came with wooden planks instead. I only address it now because the floor of wooden planks had apparently parted, but were now gathering back together. Though I had heard rumbling in my room before, I'd never bothered to ask (I always was reluctant to ask Mr. Snatcher too many questions). But now, before me were gathering floors and the four Red Hats themselves. Mr. Pickles and Mr. Trout's faces were of neutrality, while Mr. Gristle had his own typical grin and widened eyes. Mr. Snatcher, however, looked very proud of himself, with his long, slender hands resting where his huge belly met his hips. They all looked down at the space that had opened under the floors. All I could catch was a blur of brown hair, and...several boxtrolls?

I stepped down the stairs as lightly as I could, trying hard to keep my lips sealed and my voice down. One boxtroll in particular, with a box marked 'Mints' looked up at me and twitched its ears. I recognized it for sure; Mr. Trout had carried it away the first night I'd ever seen these men. We locked eyes until the floor had sealed itself back to how they'd been before.

"MINTS!"

Mr. Gristle's piercing voice broke my trance and made me flinch uncontrollably. The other three men looked up at me, making Mr. Pickles and Mr. Trout shift uncomfortably in their places, and Mr. Snatcher appearing strangely sheepish. The momentary silence was terrible, so I grasped my skirts and dared to make the first move. "Father, why do the floors move? Why are there boxtrolls under the floor? Why?" I asked as I made it to the foot of the stairs. Father appeared a little sheepish at first. "You stooges!" he suddenly snapped at his three men. "D'you forget to check on the kid again?!" Mr. Gristle pouted and Mr. Pickles and Mr. Trout looked utterly confused. "...ridiculous ol' twits bafflin' me with their..." he grumbled. His sneer softened as he approached me, stroking his necktie. I clung to the railing of the steps. "Oh, my sweet little _seven_ year old..." he began. I weakly smiled. His tone was like syrup, sickly sweet and flowing as if he had rehearsed this explanation for many weeks now. "Unfortunately there are still many boxtrolls hiding under Cheesebridge today. Because we catch so many at a time, we hold them in the Basement until the time of their demise."

My face turned neutral at the low tone his voice took at the very mention of their awaiting death; just the very idea of him looking forward to their end, shook me to my core. I tried hard not to show it, but something told me that he could. He knelt down before me, and placed a dramatic hand to his chest. "That's why I'd have to be very angry if I found you down there, my dear."

He extended his arms behind him towards the wooden flooring. "I slay them down there-" he then held out his arms towards me. "-to protect you up here," he explained with a wide smirk. My smile increased just a little. He patted my head and sent his men away (two of them still looked quite confused). Once the front door was closed, and we were alone, he firmly grasped my hand, and led me to the breakfast table. "Now, Pepper dear, enough of this little chatter."

"...hello?..."

Snatcher stomped on the wooden boards. "What was that?" I asked. "Just those pests again, child. Pay no attention to them. Manipulative little beasts," he explained. "I heard a 'hello' too, Daddy," I explained. He stopped abruptly, making me accidentally bump into his tall, lean legs. He looked over his shoulder. "You did?" he asked, with a curved eyebrow. "Y-yes, sir." "Hmm..." he rumbled. "Did you see anything?" "No." "Did you hear anything?" "No. Mr. Pickles told me it was just him, but it came from under me..." I tried to explain despite the look of displeasure on his face. He put a finger to just below his bottom lip in thought. "...can't have that," I heard him mumble. "What'd you say?" I asked. Father curled his arm around me and practically pushed me close to him. Bumping into his legs and round gut, it bothered me, though just a little. "You can't have these senseless episodes, my darling. One shouldn't listen to voices in a head with no owner; a waste of time and lacks sense and propriety. I'm sure it was my loyal stooge trying to speak to you here in the Real World where we belong; simple logic. You needn't worry of such things. Let's have some breakfast, Pepper."

He pulled out a plain chair and pushed me in once I sat down. I watched him as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a mason jar of with the picture of a strawberry on it. As he studied it, he groaned and gave it a disapproving look. "Very naughty..." I heard him say.

I must've voiced my intrigue because he looked back at me and smiled. "Pepper, how would like some jelly on bread?" "Can I add butter too?" I asked. "Of course! It is your birthday after all. The first of many we get to spend together," he left the jelly jar on the counter and placed his hands on my shoulders. He hung my hat on the ears of my chair. "We've had a lovely few weeks together, haven't we? A little rocky at first, but so very good the rest of it," he explained, brushing my bangs from my face. I smiled, albeit a little nervously, but he didn't seem to react. I watched on as he spread button on four slices of bread, and grilled them with eggs on separate pans. After placing them all on plates, he spread a little more butter, and then jam. A little too much for my taste, but I never would've said so; not in front of _him_ anyway. I soon noticed that he'd added one slice of bread and two eggs on one plate, then the other three slices of bread and three eggs on the other. He gave the first plate to me.

As was typical of my Father, it all tasted amazing.

"Father?" I was bold enough to ask. "Yes?" he asked. "Are we still going to the Toy Shop today, like you promised?" He looked me up and down and ran his fingers through my short hair. "You've earned the privilege, I'd say. Unfortunately, the White Hats don't pay my men and myself as much as they should, so let's just have one item, like we discussed, hmm?" he replied. "Thank you, Father!" "Yes, yes, now finish up."

I certainly couldn't argue with that.

...

I was particularly proud of myself for picking the dress I wore as we walked along the paths of the town. It helped to better match Mr. Snatcher's fancy gloves he wore with his rings, heirloom cane, and intricately patterned socks in the cooler weather. Fallen leaves were scattered all over the sidewalk and twirled around during every gust of wind. Before we left the factory, he'd given his usual lecture of staying by his side at all times, but stressed the importance of holding my red hat, so it didn't fly away. With one hand on his arm, and the other on my hat, I tried to stay as focused as possible. It was hard to as I grinned over what kind of toy I could be taking home.

"Good day, Mr. Snatcher," the sound of a foreign voice, brought me back to reality. "Ah, Mr. Lovette, always a pleasure," my Father replied. Walking up to us came a slender, older man with a gentle enough looking face. Unlike most people, who seemed a little nervous around us, especially him, Mr. Lovette always appeared as if he had seen enough of the real world to show little fear towards anything nowadays. "Is this the nice girl I've heard so much about?" he asked. I was about to open my mouth before my Father stepped ahead of me. "Ah, yes, delightful little girl, isn't she? Introduce yourself, Pepper."

I stepped forward and performed a small curtsied. "It's a pleasure to meet you," I said in as nice a tone as I could muster. Mr. Lovette took my hand and kissed it, like a gentleman towards a proper lady. "The pleasure is all mine. I've heard you're from London," he replied. I beamed. "Yes! And it's my birthday!" I announced cheerfully. "And how old are you?" he asked. I squared my shoulders and said in a proud tone, "I'm seven, sir!" "Seven?! Well then..." He looked at Mr. Snatcher. "...you've got a real lady there, sir." "I agree, kind sir." He put his downward pointing hands on his belly and put on a sympathetic face. "The poor child was the saddest, most frightened little thing I'd ever seen in my life. If I'd done nothing, Heaven knows where she'd be now." "Probably underground with the Boxtrolls?" Mr. Lovette asked. "Well, their rivers of blood and mountains of bones anyway..." Mr. Snatcher added.

I trembled a little at those words.

"Oh dear, I-I don't know about that," Mr. Lovette replied. "And why not?" Mr. Snatcher asked. "I've seen them for myself, sir. No one deserves a fate so awful; especially the most defenseless of us," Father ran his fingers through my short hair. I smiled and nodded at him; his eyes at that point were unusually kind. As they spoke of me, I looked back and forth at them as they discussed my ladylike qualities. Though they barely looked down at me, I couldn't help, but feel a little grateful. Father was right about one thing; I do love being a lady. I appreciated my nice dresses, shiny shoes, the teatimes, and having such an influential father. Being a lady was quite enjoyable as I hoped it would be. I just wished Father would let me speak outside of 'hello's' and 'goodbye's'. "I for one am quite proud of the person of value she'll become. Under the proper tutelage-" he placed a hand on his chest once more. "-a real orphan becomes a real lady."

A person of value...

It sounded quite nice to me; becoming a valuable person. Mr. Snatcher was certainly a valuable person. The town exterminator and boxtroll expert certainly put thought and effort into his appearance, speech (despite a thick accent very similar to mine), and his grand plans and goals for the future. In the weeks I'd known him, I'd only caught a small glimpse of how diabolical, dramatic, and powerful he truly was in so many ways. When I wasn't trembling in his wake at the very thought of The Strap, a destructive comment, or anything else that could make him angry, I found him...admirable. I instinctively placed a hand on my cheek.

"Well, we must be off then. My little Miss has earned a birthday present, and t'would be best if we got to it, yes?" he admitted, brushing a finger across my cheek and the base of my chin. "Y-yes, sir." "Dear little lady, isn't she?" he asked Mr. Lovette. "Thank you, sir," I was bold enough to say. As my Father led me away, his grip grew just a little bit tighter. When he almost tugged me away down turned onto Gouda Lane, his smile immediately disappeared.

"Precarious ol' goat..."

...

The widest grin I'd ever seen arose on my face, as I glanced up at him for one last validation. "Well, go on."

I sped into the store as quickly as I could. He followed after me, hooked his pointer finger under my collar and pulled me back. "Remember," he whispered. "One thing."

I nodded before he let me go. The shop was nice and warm in comparison to the cool, crisp autumn world outside. Appearing quite large to me, and divided into sections, from left to right, I found that each section was dedicated to a different age group. Larger and softer toys for ages birth to three, slightly smaller toys for ages four to seven, and even smaller toys like bags of marbles and Tiddylwinks for big kids. Each section had its own sides; for instance, in ages birth to three, there were both pink and blue bears, lions, hippos, elephants, and many others, color coordinated and on opposite sides of each other. For ages four to seven, there were building blocks and plastic motorcars on one side, and baby dolls and tea sets on the other. The big kids' section's distinctions weren't visible (and if they were, I couldn't tell). Every toy in the shop, save the ones for babies, appealed to me in some way. On one hand, I could build castles and recreate the guild mansion with building blocks, but on the other, my own little tea party sounded incredibly smashing.

I turned to smile at Mr. Snatcher, who was standing in a corner with his hands behind his back, merely watching. As I look back, he gave off the impression that in a store filled with other well dressed children around pulling on dolls, and stuffed animals, there was a gleam of irritation on his face. Children and their families began to notice him standing there in the most dignified pose he could make. He would glance at another child every now and then and grimace at their grubby little hands tossing bouncing balls to each other, with their dripping noses, squealing voices, and awkward little faces looking up at his.

For a man who often promoted their protection from monsters, Archibald Snatcher never did like children very much.

Still, I explored the rest of the store and maneuvered around the other customers to look through toy bins full of wigs and costume pieces, reached for a rack of silly hats, and fawned over dollhouses and makeshift castles. I couldn't help but giggle with the other children as they played games all over the floor while their parents conversed with themselves.

"Pepper!"

I turned around and near the checkers and chessboards, I found someone that made my jaw drop in shock.

"Abigail!" I cried, as a beautiful blonde girl appeared with a fragile doll with just as yellow hair. Just as she'd been the day we met, her dress was silky, gorgeous, and extremely frilly. I was jealous, but at the same time, so very glad to know her.  
"Where have you been? I haven't seen you since you dropped in three months ago!"  
"I've been with my new Daddy."  
"You have?!"  
"Yeah, today's my seventh birthday!"  
"Happy Birthday!"  
"Thanks," I giggled. We hugged each other tightly, and complimented her doll (one that could've been her identical twin if it matched her size). Its hair was quite soft and bright and its eyes were a greenish hazel, complimenting its fairer features. "So, tell me, who's your new father? Tell me! Tell me!" she said, as she twirled her ringlets through her fingers. "He is," I replied, pointing to Mr. Snatcher. Abby gasped and stepped back. "The Troll Man? He's your father?" she asked in surprise. Mr. Snatcher turned his head toward them and curved an eyebrow at us both. We both felt a chill up our spines as he stepped towards us. "Pepper, my sweet, who's this?" he asked. Abigail positively froze. "Th-this is one of my friends I made before we met. This is Abigail," I tried to explain. He nodded and seemed to recognize her, as he locked eyes with her curly blonde hair. "Miss...Nibble, am I right?" "Y-Yes, sir," Abby confirmed reluctantly. Father seemed to notice. "Good to know that my Pepper has found nice friends in nice places, Miss," he explained as cordially as he could. He took her hand, causing a flinch in my friend and kissed it. Abby curled her lips inward in reluctance.

Another man slipped into our encounter. A tall man with a long nose and powdered wig lightly took Abby by her free arm. "Abigail, it's crowded in here. Let's pick something and go, ay?" "Well, well, Wilbury Nibble Q.C.," Mr. Snatcher greeted. "Mr. Snatcher," he replied curtly. "Had any successful cases lately?" my Father asked. "Recently, yes! Any caught boxtrolls recently?" the lawyer replied. "Very many, thank you," Mr. Snatcher replied smugly. "I see someone who belongs to me has found a friend in someone that belongs to you!" he continued. Mr. Nibble's tense face softened at the sight of me. "It's her birthday," he finished, in a matter-of-fact kind of tone. Unlike Mr. Lovette, who appeared as polite as he could be to both of us, Mr. Nibble and Mr. Snatcher poured venom into each other, to the point that only mine and Abby's presence were enough to keep Mr. Nibble contained. My Father wasted no time in gloating. "I took in this pretty little thing just three months before. Glad to know that _my_ daughter has such good taste in friends. At least, I hope so."

Mr. Nibble seemed particularly sour at my father's words. He cleared his throat. "I hope the same for yours," his smile at me was surprisingly genteel. I partly felt relieved that his annoyed faces were mostly geared at my Dad. Still, I thought, what did both of him have to do to make mine so smug, and Mr. Nibble so...bitter? "Abby, let's go. Miss Snatcher," he nodded courteously at me and spared one last glance at Mr. Snatcher before he took Abby's shoulder. She reluctantly waved at me. "Bye..." she whispered. "Bye, Abby!" I cried out, waving profusely. Father winced at my pitch. "Pepper!" he spat. "Keep your voice down. Remember what I've told you about nice, soft voices." "Y-yes, Father, of course, it's important to have nice, soft voices," I replied. He smirked as they walked away. "Good; also, you would be wise to keep the lawyer's daughter in your confidence. Men of certain positions in this town are valuable to us. I'm quite proud of you," he explained, petting the top of my head. "Th-thank you, Father." "Of course, my dear, now pick something. This store is a little too...cheerful for my taste," he replied, grimacing at other children smearing paint on their faces without a parent in sight.

He lightly pushed me forward, making me step forward. I blinked a couple times as I search around some more. Near the cashier's counter, in a cluster of soldier action figures, I found something that made me stop in my tracks in the best possible meaning of the word.

She was stunning, magnificent, and had to be mine.

A plush doll sat next to the soldiers, as if cheering them on as they marched. She had long light brown and almost dark blonde hair tied in yellow silk ribbons, wore a stitched a red and blue plaid dress, white socks, black socks made of fabric, and a blue mop cap. Though her face was of fabric and two dimensional, on it were two deep blue eyes, light brown freckles, and plump red lips. Her lips, as well as the red in her plaid dress were the color of roses. She was soft enough to put anywhere, small enough to carry around, yet big enough to cuddle when I'd fall asleep; perfection in my eyes. I delicately lifted her up and smiled widely at her. I held her tightly and kissed her rosy pink cheek, and showed her to my father.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

He didn't look particularly impressed. He took her from me and looked her up and down. I wasn't too surprised at his analytical reaction. "I suppose so..." he replied, sounding unimpressed. "Her name is Rosie!" I officially announced. "Already got a name, eh?" he asked. "Yes, sir, I love her!" "Very well..." he concluded nonchalantly. He took her hand and brought her to the cashier's counter. There, they found an older woman, who had just finished helping the Nibbles before they swiftly left. The cashier returned to her register and was surprised to find none other than Mr. Snatcher there himself.

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Snatcher."  
"Good morning, Mrs. Collette."  
"Never known you to come in here."

He held up my Rosie. "Well, my new little darling's birthday is today, so I thought I'd come and get her something for her good behavior," he explained. Mrs. Colette looked down at me and we sincerely smiled at each other. "I've heard of you! You're Miss Pepper Snatcher, yes?" "Yes, Ma'am," I responded with Father's permission. I curtsied to her as well. "Ah, she's adorable! I almost can't believe it. You, Mr. Snatcher, a family ma-"

"I WANT BOTH TOYSSSSS!"  
"Miss, we'll get the other one another day."  
"IT MIGHT NOT BE HERE NEXT TIME!"  
"We only have so much to spend, Ma'am."  
"IT DOESN'T MATTER, NANNY!"

My heart in my chest flipped over at the sudden screeching of childish screams and a much calmer voice trying to soothe it. I whipped my head around and watched in alarm as a chubby child in especially frilly clothes and bows was grasping two alabaster dolls with curly hair and silky dresses, just as frilly as hers. Beside her was a frighteningly nervous nanny who couldn't have been older than seventeen years old. Mr. Snatcher didn't bother to look, but with both hands clapped onto the knob of his fancy walking cane, I noticed their unrest. His head was bowed low and lips tightly shut. As the child pressed on and on for two expensive looking dolls instead of one, his lips gradually curled into a sinister scowl, as his ring clad hands continued to shake. "BUT THEY'RE BOTH TOO PRETTY. IF I LEAVE ONE HERE, I'LL HATE YOU FOREVER!" "No-no-no, please, Miss-"

"F-Father?" I asked carefully. Clutching his knob tightly to the point of straining his muscles, he eventually reached into his inner jacket pocket and practically ripped out a leather wallet. He pulled out a £20 pound note and with tense hands placed it into Mrs. Collete's withered hand. She seemed to notice his silence too, and quickly gave him his change. He jammed the doll into my chest, grabbed my hand tightly, and leered at the nanny, watching her relent as she regrettably accepted both dolls for the now red faced girl. The nanny turned around to go to the cashier's counter when she accidentally bumped into my Father's protruding midsection. "Oh! M-Mr. Snatcher, I apologize. I didn't see you there," the teen replied shyly. Some light brown hair fell into her face, which she tried to hide over her forehead. My father's scowl turned into a small smirk.

"Not a problem, my dear. Although..." he put his lips to the teen girl's ear. "...strictly between us, you would do well to teach your charge to adopt a more civil tone in public, especially in a gentleman's presence." I could tell that the girl's body shuddered at the sound of his low, stern voice. She nodded her head, clearly intimidated. "Y-yes, sir..." "Good show, you two have a pleasant day."

My Father kissed her hand, and I curtsied, before he practically shoved me out of the child infested store.


	15. Chapter 14

Free Pepper

Chapter 14

After the Toy Shop, we stopped at a nearby cafe, The Cultured Curd on Number 28, Gouda Lane. Walking past glancing occupants, my Father offered his hat and cane to a host, and smugly escorted me through a marble floored dining hall. I was excited, albeit overwhelmed. With all the people he seemed to have connections with, and his ability to afford dining at such a lovely restaurant, I felt...impressed. As taught, I clung onto his arm and tried not to look around too much. I slipped off my gloves, before Father held open my chair for me to sit first, and slipped off his gloves and tucking them away in his pockets. I kept Rosie wrapped around my free arm.

The elegance of The Cultured Curd boasted shining papered walls, curved arches, hanging paintings and overhead lights. It helped boast a classiness that suggested rectitude and respectability. The Corinthian columns between each painting brought a classical air to the dining rooms, all filled with dark wood chairs and tables, that latter of which were covered with white table clothes, one per table. Gold curtains hung in front of wide spacious windows that brought natural light into the first and second floors. Mr. Snatcher mildly pushed me up the steps to our table on the upper floor. We were given a table next to a window that showed an overcast sky. He pulled my chair out first, as he normally did, and pushed it in once I was sitting. As we dabbed our fingers in a bowl of water first and foremost, my fingers flinched at its cold temperature, but I made no complaint. Rosie sat on my lap, as I continually glanced out the window to the rustling trees, passing townsfolk, and flying leaves. We were soon given menus by a nicely dressed man in a black waistcoat and white apron.

I grinned at the sight of turkey, pork, and desserts on the menu, among other options. It only reminded me of the restaurants in jolly old London, and how I longed to be able to go in and eat a real steak and bread roll, instead of just the usual fish and potatoes. I supposed that's what I got for living in on the Thames, but whatever the case, I put a finger to my chin in thought. Their turkey, bread rolls with butter cream, tea, and their pastries sounded divine to me, and it made me all the more excited when I found that they would come in courses. I was amazed. "Father, is this one of those very important places?" I asked. Father chuckled. "Yes, my dear, only the most respectable sort of people would even try to come through here. Luckily, my place in this town, and that, which I'll have when I acquire my White Hat, allows myself to enjoy such a privilege." "What about me?" I asked. "Well, if you behave well, as a lady should, I'll take you here again." "Really?" I asked with a wide smile. He appeared humored. "Indeed," he said.

Our first course was a choice of either rice or turtle soup. Being reminded of sea turtles, I chose rice, but Mr. Snatcher chose turtle. He kept his gaze on me as I tried carefully not to slurp. His terribly cold, gray eyes always seemed to keep an eye on me as I ate. Perhaps this was why, I think now. Maybe this was a test, and on my birthday, no less. Still, it truly did feel like an honor to be there; not at the highest with the White Hats, but just high enough on the social ladder to enjoy fancy soups, meats, and pastries, cultured indeed. I contemplated my Father with gratitude as he tucked his napkin into his shirt collar, held down by his own brown waist coat.

I was particularly excited to try their bread rolls with their butter cream. I always enjoyed the smell of freshly baked bread. Reminiscing of my favorite bakeries in London, I took a long sniff of the first one I picked up, and sighed dreamily. Fresh and just out of the oven, it gave me a remarkable sense of comfort. My Father took two and seemed to notice my dreamy reaction. "Why don't you eat it, Pepper?" he asked, snapping me out of my daydream. I blushed as I took my first bite. It was not too salty, but not too sweet. Just right, I thought. "I love the smell of baked bread, sir. It's very nice..." I explained awkwardly. "I see." "What smells do you like, Father?" I asked almost impulsively. This seemed to take him aback, for he was silent for a minute. "...fresh cheeses and pastries," he finally said. I smiled and nodded. "I love Gouda!" "I know you do, my pet." I parted my lips to remind him that he didn't include butter cream with his rolls, but I suddenly remembered his...fits... and chose not to question it.

He usually didn't like the sight of me enjoying cheese without him, but today he was surprisingly lenient. He watched with a small hint of jealousy as I enjoyed our next course: our choice of protein and sides. I just had to try their boned turkey, mashed potatoes, and macaroni au gratin, while Father chose a selection of lamp, veal, baked potatoes and the largest slab of steak I'd ever seen. He didn't seem startled at all and went straight to work, eating it daintily. He was even generous enough to let me try each one. As we ate, I noticed how tired I began to feel. While my Father was always the first to comment on how just a little too thin I was, I could never control the weariness I felt at the end of larger meals. He had noticed not too long after we'd met. He tapped me on the arm during my first yawn. "Cover your mouth when you yawn," he said in an almost threatening tone. "Yes, sir," I replied. I hurriedly went back to eating my turkey. He hummed. "Now, my dear," he suddenly resumed. "Let's discuss this little friend I've provided for you," he said, motioning to my Rosie sitting in my lap. I leaned back in my chair and beamed at her. I cuddled her tightly. "I hope you understand that your doll is also a privilege, not a right," he resumed. I frowned. "Y-yes I do, sir. But I can keep her, can I?" I asked hesitantly. Mr. Snatcher chuckled. "Dear one, of course, you can. It is yours, but remember to behave as is necessary. Every action has a consequence after all. Necessary good behavior comes with rewards, and unnecessary bad behavior has punishments. Do you understand?" I nodded as we began the next course. "So...how do I know when behavior is 'nece-ssry'?" I inquired. "Pepper, you've known the answer to that since our first meal together. I will tell you. I'll tell you everything you'll ever need to know; especially as you get older, my little lady," he explained, cupping my cheek. I agreed with another nod of the head.

Our host provided our last course: pastries, nuts, and fruits for dessert. Being reminded of our hats and my hair, I picked a cherry pastry with white vanilla icing. He picked a pair of pastries that had none, one strawberry and the other apple with cinnamon. He didn't enjoy them right away however, because he still had to finish the rest of his previous course. "The screeching child," he said aloud. "Sir?" "The screeching child in the toy store." "Yes, Father?" "Ghastly little brat; I've never had much time or patience for them, not in _my_ factory. I'd have to be very cross with any child that thinks she can yell and scream to get what she wants. To behave so crassly in public is the behavior of pests, and you know how I feel about pests," he explained before taking a rather large bite of his steak. I focused on Rosie, her beautiful blue eyes staring back with that pretty, red smile on her face. I love her so much. "Pests don't get pretty dolls, do they?" I was bold enough to ask. Mr. Snatcher perceived the concern in my eyes and giggled. My face fell at such a reaction. "Of course not! You don't think the menial and dead common are worthy of most luxuries, do you?" he asked before biting into his apple pastry. "The closest that pests are allowed are the company of the bones and blood they've ripped from the careless and helpless," he bit off a piece of his strawberry dessert after saying this.

"Of course..." I resolved. "You've done so well since your...transgressions from your first week. Keep doing well, and you'll never have to fear losing your little friend." "I'd like that very much, Daddy," I finished. I covered my mouth as I yawned after trying one of the cafe's dried banana slices and chestnuts. Mr. Snatcher snapped his fingers for the host and bill.

I suddenly felt exhausted as I leaned back and kept my eyes only on her. When I caught a glimpse of him leaning back as well, and patting his belly, my muscles tense up. Suddenly, a flurry of thoughts swirled around in my head. The awkward feelings I had around this huge man, in terms of his intimidating nature and appearance; the way he commanded respect just by his words and dramatic hand gestures, and how little he spoke of people like the young lady with her dolls and her frazzled nanny. "You're not going to..." I leaned forward. He too leaned over as I whispered, "...take care of them like pests too, are you? The girl and her nanny?" "No, I may be a great man due for a White Hat, but the private affairs of my fellow citizens are theirs and theirs alone. I can however suggests ways they can better themselves, such as the use of proper voices and subject manner when in public." "Wow..." "Yes..." he imitated. "Finish your pastry, child. Then, we will leave."

...

The walk back to the factory was something of a blur. I allowed a yawn to escape my lips once or twice more before drowsiness took over my senses. As we walked back, with our gloves back on our hands, our hats on our heads, and his cane in Mr. Snatcher's hand, my vision began to blur a little in exasperation. As we made it back to Milk Street, I could feel something pick me up and place me on a soft shoulder made of velvet and animal fur.

He shushed me as he held me soundly. Something odd happened as I laid there in his arms, with my chin and cheek on his shoulder. Though his limbs were long and gaunt, and his hands were cold (his hard rings certainly didn't help), I felt curiously secure in the rotund man's embrace. His strong scent of mixed cigars, cologne, cheese, and meat, was second nature to me there as he held me with a long, strong hand, while the other held his walking cane. This man haunted my nightmares, turned my world upside down, and, without lifting a finger, could plaster my tiny hand to my pale cheek every time I thought of that terrible smack during that infernal Wine Incident. I bravely placed it on his back, just in front of me. A small animal hair accidentally flowed into my nostril as I took a breath, making me sneeze. He chuckled a little at such a little high pitched noise. Yet, his hold on me was firm and not too tight. I could relax on his soft body, even though any ideas of making him angry and lifting another hand at me horrified me to my core. Nevertheless, as he took me up to the factory and up the stairs, I closed my eyes and unexpectedly relaxed.

...

"Am I going to bed?"  
"It seems so."  
"I don't want to go to bed."  
"I'm sure you don't, but you'll do as you're told."  
"But-"

The rest of the afternoon was relatively simple by comparison. I was sent to my room for a nap, got to write another letter in secret journal before hiding it under the bed, ate another perfectly crafted supper by my Father himself, and was even sent a 'Happy Birthday' card from his men. For a day in my new life with a man so hard to please and easy to annoy, he seemed actually peaceful. Normal grievances such as the current White Hats, pesky boxtrolls, and his men's supposedly 'doltish' demeanor, didn't seem to bother him. Whatever the case, the whole day had left me physically drained. However, I couldn't bring myself to admitting that turning in early on my birthday was a good idea. I didn't seem to need to though. As always, Father was one step ahead of me. Just before curfew, he'd sent me to my room and now, he loomed over me in my bedroom and pulled the sheets up to my chin. I held Rosie tightly in my arms, as I studied his calm face.

"What's it like, being a man?"

Mr. Snatcher rose an eyebrow, not seeming to expect that question. He smiled nonetheless and squared his shoulders. "Interesting question for a girl at her bedtime, my sweet." I shrugged in an honest way, which he found quite amusing. He sat on the bed, prompting me to sit up. "If you must know, it depends on the man in particular. Unfortunately some are quite pathetic, accepting their lot in life with no will or drive to change it. They'd rather stay in the rut they were born in, than to yearn, nay work, for something far better. Then there are the great ones; those who, like yourself, will do whatever is necessary to acquire what's rightfully yours," he clenched his fist and heightened his voice in volume, helping sound passionate and correct. "Of course-" he continued in a casual tone. "...you're just a little girl." "S-Sorry..."

Mr. Snatcher threw his head back and laughed. "Umm..." I was bold enough to mutter.

"Don't complain on things beyond your control, little one; that can't be helped. Besides, it's unbecoming. You are truly lucky though. The great kind of man-" he pushed his hair behind his ear. "-is determined and resourceful, a fine example for the betterment of oneself, even to those such as yourself," he explained, taking me into his lap. I cautiously allowed my short, thin body lean back to recline on his stout one. His hold felt just as tender as the one before. "Those sad men, disguising their displeasure with their lowly status as 'thanks', are a tragic sort. Is it wrong for a man to reach for something grander?"

I was silent.

"Tell me, Pepper," he ordered with a more callous grip and tone. "No, Father, it isn't!"

"Is it wrong for a man to grab hold of an opportunity for prosperity, especially-" he stroked my cheek with his thumb. "-if it means advancing the life of someone else?" "What does 'advancing' mean?" "To move up." "Oh...I guess not, sir." "And what if a great man had to take desperate measures to acquire his rightful place in a town such as yours? Is it wrong for them to take those measures, if that's where he truly belongs?" he asked. I looked down and twiddled my thumbs. "...you wouldn't...do anything too mean, would you?" I asked, thinking of our first week together. "Much like with men, it would depend." "B-But, Father, some stuff just isn't right to do...right?" Mr. Snatcher looked away and petted the top of my head. "My dear girl, would it matter, it that 'stuff' was? Great men, especially those with someone to care for-" he looked down at me. "-should do what must be done to change their lives." "What if it ends up hurting someone? What about them, Daddy?" I asked, feeling very skittish. Father smirked. "If a disease gets in your way, wouldn't it be better to cure it before the infection spreads?"

I was silent for a moment or two before I realized what he meant. "It must be nice being an important man," I finally had the courage to say. "It is, my little mouse. The job is never done, but someone must take up the mantle and lead." "I have one more question, sir." "Alright, but one more." I took a deep breath.

"Daddy, do you hate me?"

His fingers on his free hand curled. "Why do you ask?" he asked, before I gulped at his suspicious face. "It's just..." My heart started beating fast, the more he stared at me. My body trembled, and he looked me up and down as a result. I suddenly couldn't even begin to explain myself. "Don't be foolish, Pepper," he finally said. My limbs calmed and my lungs exhaled. "What?"

He wrapped both arms around me as he looked down and rolled his eyes. "Oh the small concerns of girls with great fathers...would I protect you and keep you safe if I hated you? Your innocence, your mousey little ways, your soft, respectful personality, and, if I may say so, your notable progress in your home schooling. Those trips to the library Mr. Trout takes you on seem to be paying off. You don't misspell nearly as much as you used to. In a job that is mostly a constant, strategic fight against bloodthirsty monsters, you are my breath of fresh air. I've never had children of my own, you see, and by now, it seems you find our relationship beneficial on both ends. Am I wrong in making such a statement?"

Everything he'd said weighed me down with amazement and fascination. Though I knew him to be largely a smooth-talker, something told me that this wasn't a lie. At least, I would often hope and pray it wasn't. When I nodded in understanding, he put me right back into bed, and tucked me back in. "No..." I admitted. He nodded in approval. "You sure do know alot, Daddy," I concluded. He chuckled, and only responded with, "you're too kind." He straightened his back and tightened his tie. "Now, time for silence, my dear. Now, it's back to our usual schedule. Breakfast, then schooling, then perhaps an outing." "I'd like that very much, Father." "Of course you would! Goodnight, Pepper, sleep well." "Goodnight, Father..." He patted my head, turned off the light, and closed the door behind me.

I turned to my side, sighed in disappointment, and looked at my new friend. "What do _you_ think, Rose?..."


	16. Chapter 15

Free Pepper

Chapter 15

 _"My Dear Friend-"_

My stomach flipped over the day Mr. Gristle emerged with a letter, while Mr. Snatcher stay confined to his office. A month or so after my birthday, as the temperatures dropped, he came in, grinning over a letter, as I tossed firewood into Father's potbelly stove. When I saw the letter addressed to me, I smoothed out my puffed, long sleeved work dress and white pinafore, tapped the soot from my black work shoes, and took the letter. "Mr. Gristle, may I sit down and read this? Maybe you could help me with the firewood?" "WOOD!"

That was a 'yes'.

"Thank you, sir." I sat down at the table, tore the envelope, and excitedly read Genevieve's message. As I figured, her handwriting was far more elegant than my own; not as much as my Father's, but far superior to mine.

 _"Thank you for sending your letter to me. It lifted my spirit to know that you were still out there somewhere. Cheesebridge sounds like a very odd place, and this man you've met, this Archibald Snatcher. Is he safe? Is he really a gentleman? He hasn't hurt you, has he? If you're not happy, there is a reason, yes? I still wish my parents had allowed you to stay with us permanently. You would've loved our manor in Basque County, Spain. The weather is quite nice this time of year, and I would've taught you Spanish and everything! I know that there's little time for leisure and frivolous activities, but we would've made it work. Does Mr. Snatcher educate you? Is he helping you in reading, writing, and arithmetic too? I've just recently begun practicing music and needlework. I like those things alright, I suppose. I'd much rather solve complicated multiplication tables._

 _"I truly miss our adventures together, sneaking away from Mama and Papa to take you through Downtown London and look at the Tower of London and Buckingham Palace. Before we got found out anyway. I'm saddened that your new father had to take your money. I gave it to_ you _, not him. But he_ is _your new Father. From what you've described, he has to be some sort of important business man. Both you and Papa have said to me that orphans don't...perhaps, I shouldn't say."_

I nodded with a frown.

 _"But he's actually got a title! I know little of the business world, but it's definitely something. You've gone from no class to Middle Class over just two weeks. Maybe he_ will _get that White Hat, and both of you will make it to the Nobility with me! Then we'll truly be sisters, in a sense. Maybe when your Father gets there, he can send a calling card to my Mama and Papa, and then we'll see each other again._

 _"Please send me more letters. I wish I could send someone to send mine, but perhaps mailboxes are what's best for now."_

 _Tu Hermana (Your Sister),_

 _Miss Genevieve Gutierrez_

I hugged the letter to my chest with a wide smile. "Leeches..." Mr. Gristle hissed. I gasped and leaned back as I found him leering over the leech aquarium, with some firewood wrapped around his arm. "Do the leeches need cleaning, sir?"

He simply giggled and walked back to our stove. An odd man, I thought. I tucked Genevieve's letter under my bodice as he tossed his own load of wood inside. I curiously watched as I heard an unusual hum. Though his eyes and his grin as wide as they'd always been, the little tune coming from his lips surprised me. The melody sounded like an actual song, the kind one might here in a performance or even a pub's Talent Night. I tried to follow along as I intently heard each note, with each verse sounding almost the same as the other. "Mr. Gristle, what's that you're humming?"

He giggled. My face went blank in bemusement. I folded my arms and made an unimpressed face. _"Crazy ol' Gristle,"_ I thought; just like him to say and do baffling things. Regardless, I kept my thoughts to myself, especially as I thought of my father. "Sir, do you suppose I could sit by the potbelly stove? It's freezing in here...if-if that's OK..." when his ice blue eyes met mine, I felt a little unsettled. "Nice..." That meant 'request granted'. My mind was flooded with thoughts of Genevieve...in her majestic villa in the Spanish countryside. The warmth of the potbelly stove, made me think of its warm weather, the endless summer days where no long sleeved dresses were needed in the fields, hills, and valleys of her world. We could've played all sorts of games in her labyrinth of a courtyard. Then, during our spare free time, we would've had a huge mansion filled with servants all to ourselves. I thought of the day I met her, how a red feather flew away from her hat in the wind. I smiled as I recalled my firm grip onto its soft exterior before I bowed and handed it to her. Her pleased, understanding face as she accepted it gave me so much hope. People tipped her hat to her and dared not question her sooty, ill dressed companion. Then, there was the pain, that which I felt as I stood before her parents, the Lord and Lady of the House of Gutierrez of Spain. They weren't cruel, but they weren't glad to see me either...I wanted so badly to be chosen; to be adopted by a Lord and Lady and become a cultured woman in turn. They wouldn't allow it. My heart broke for the first time ever that day. I almost had a sister. Then, just like that, the dream disappeared.

A tear fell as I heard Genevieve call out 'don't forget, Pepper, I love you!', as I left her and London there for the last time. I...just ran away from her from the edge of the river, where the sewer connects to the waterfront; gone for two long weeks, before I came to the Cheesebridgian Valley, where I'd stay with him...the second person to break my heart.

As I sat on my knees, collecting dust and clutching my skirt, I folded my lips in.

"Miss Pepper?" a congested voice asked from behind. I rapidly wiped the tears from my eyes and stood up. "Yes, Mr. Trout?" The gentle giant appeared unusually pink, especially in the nose. "The Boss wants you. He says it's time for your needlework practice-ACHOO!" the giant sneezed, causing me to back off a little. I swiped the dust and soot from my person and started my climb up the steps. "In his office?" "Of course-ACHOO!" he replied, covering his face with a handkerchief. "WORK!" My heart and stomach flipped over at the sound of the imp's voice as I hurried up the steps and into the hallway.

Though I knew Mr. Snatcher would be there, I partly looked forward to going into his office. We may have had our potbelly stove downstairs for warmth in the cold months, but Father had a fireplace in his office in contrast, always lit during this time of the year. _"Lucky man,"_ I would typically think. I rubbed my arms as I approached his office door, and simply stared at it for a minute, maybe two.

"Pepper!"

My shoulders twitched at the sound of Mr. Snatcher's loud, gruff tone of voice. "Are you out there?" he asked, as I looked down at my shoes. "...Yes, sir." "Father would like to talk to you!" he announced. "Coming, sir!" I reluctantly took the curved doorknob of his office and opened it. About as dim as the hallway, it boasted book shelves, a dark wood desk with a lamp and gold plaque with his name etched in, and a large leather chair behind it, and a wooden hair in front of it. I noticed his usual cigar case, a coat rack, and stack of small rectangular papers; his stooges' paychecks, she figured. I initially couldn't believe how nice it seemed despite the low lighting. Between the desk and an extra chair was a lit fireplace, producing a welcomed glow of orange and red. Though it wasn't as large as our Mayor's (or so she'd been told), I will always admit that it was still very elegant in a business kind of way. I found Mr. Snatcher hunched over at his desk looking a parchment up and down, wearing very small, thin glasses. I rose to the tip of my toes as I leaned over in the doorway. "F-Father?" "Pepper," he replied, looking up. He took the glasses from his eyes and motioned to the chair.

Sitting upon the chair was a collection of ruffled, navy blue adornments, connected by a same colored thread and silver needle. "Come and sit. Then, we will talk," he instructed in a disinterested tone. I folded my hands and slouched a little as I walked over, sat down, and picked up the needle. Father often said that needlework was a practice any lady could be proud of alone. However, this was different. "You're taking care of it for _me_ ; and my Experiment!" he'd often say.

The Experiment...

I asked many times: "Father, what's the Experiment? Why am I sewing up these accessories? When may I know?" I often asked. "All in good time, my pet. All in good time," he'd say. Today, I chose not to ask those questions. The quiet as he wrote little notes on the parchment was all the indication I needed. So Father and Daughter sat there in front of the toasty fireplace in complete silence. My slim fingers sneaked it ways through the fabric as I guided the pin to help connect ruffles with mock feathers and light blue gems. As I concentrated on the path of the thread, all sounds fell muted, save for the occasional snap from the flames and firewood. A tiny smile creased onto my face as I relaxed myself with the maneuver through the pattern. My eyelids lowered a little and my mind cleared. The longer I sewed, the clearer my mind fell; falling and falling into a state of peaceful felicity. The way the needle swayed so easily through the opposing material soothed my thoughts of Genevieve, melting away until my brain had wandered into a happier place. I never took my eyes off the tiny metallic line that traveled around its world so easily.

I loved it, yet I hated it.

"Pepper!" "Y-Yes, Father?" Listen to this song Mr. Trout wrote for our Experiment. 'Few years ago, a plot was hatched, when evil went to hunt and snatch,'...ugh, no, no, no, I was right. Remove the 'snatch'," he rambled, scratching out words. I looked back down at my project and grinned when I saw I was just about done. I tied the thread tightly, and stood up. "Father, may I show you my work?" I asked standing up. He looked me up and down and beckoned me. I approached him and with shaking hands, gave him my work.

He leaned back, crossed one leg over the other and hummed. He brought it closer to his face and really eyed. His hums ranged from a little optimistic, to seemingly disappointed. Then, he stopped and was completely silent. A smirk and a cheerful hum gave me a joy he'd never know. "Acceptable, I believe you've made progress." He lightly tossed them onto the desk, and pulled me towards them. "I think I can finally tell you our Experiment," he told me bluntly. I beamed as he placed me in his lap and pulled forward sketches of a royal blue gown and those same circular adornments of mine.

"Pepper, do you know what men in this town love more than most things?"  
"Cheese and hats, sir, like you've told me!" I replied cheerfully.  
"Oh no doubt of it...but those aren't the only things."  
"No?"  
"No...the men in this town love a jolly good show. Of course, we haven't had a fine arts district since my special curfew came into effect. Ballets, plays, concerts, any kind of organized show became a thing of the past; a luxury that wouldn't return until the destruction of those bloody pests of ours."  
"Ballets?" I asked with a slightly hopeful tone. "I've heard of such things. I've always wanted to go to one of those shows. Maybe even be in a play someday!"  
"Rrrreallyyy..." he asked in an amused tone. He leaned back again and rested a chin on his pointer finger.

"Would you like to be in a play, my sweet?"  
"Yes! But-but what about the Boxtrolls? Are they dead yet?"  
"Unfortunately, no...but just because our fine arts talent has become null and void doesn't mean we simply can't make more." My eyes grew as large as plates and all my teeth showed as a beautiful scenario appeared in my head. I sighed and lowered my eyelids dreamily.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Performer of the Year Award goes to Mademoiselle Pepper Le Snatcher, the finest ballet dancer, actress, and singer of the Cheesebridge Opera House! Raised by the finest Red turned White Hat in town, Pepper grew from rags to riches in just a matter of months. She trained for years under the tutelage of fine instructors, overcoming many obstacles and pleasing the masses with her voice and dance. The Belle of the renewed Cheesebridge Opera House, and a fine example of perseverance combined with technique and passion, Mademoiselle Snatcher serves as a shining example that even orphans can do and be great things. She would like to personally thank Mr. Archibald P. Snatcher, her father and Chief of Security. Watch her strong, slender form glide to the stage, her long hair as red as a rose, and her glistening eyes the color of chocolate. Isn't she...beautiful?

"Pepper!"  
"Y-Y-Yes, Father?"

Mr. Snatcher gave me a stern look, as my head flinched back into reality. His face was positively unimpressed, and I blushed terribly. "I...I guess I was day dreaming..." "Clearly," he bluntly stated. "You'd be wise not to daydream while people are speaking to you. It's unbecoming, especially for a lady." "Yes, Father, of course..." "Good, because if you cease this little habit, I shall allow to do just that," he said, pointing a finger up with a grin. "...Day dreaming?" He rolled his eyes. " _No_ , you ridic-" he put a hand to his face and shook his head. I shrugged in awkwardness. "I mean, be in a play!" he confessed, annoyed. My jaw dropped. "A play? I get to be in a play?"

He seemed pleased with that reaction, because he smirked as he nodded. "I'd _love_ to be a real performer!" I squealed. "And so you will," he confirmed, reaching over and plucking a strange little shape from a drawer at his right below his desk. "What do I get to do, Daddy? Can I play a princess? Or a knight? Or an explorer? I'm not picky..."

Mr. Snatcher chuckled at me. "No..." my face fell. "You'll be something far better."

He grasped the shape and pulled it down onto the top of my head. He tied the baby bonnet under my chin, just a little too tightly. I winced a little at his cold hands tying up my face, before caressing it, a subtle code that nothing was wrong. In fact, everything was right. His cold gray eyes studied my heart shaped face. Usually understanding of my Father's Codes, as I liked to call them, I had a moment of doubt. Thankfully, he hummed in approval. "Perfect, you'll make a fine Trubshaw Baby." My eyes widened into disbelief. "I'm playing the Trubshaw Baby in your play?" "You certainly are. You have the second most important part in our little musical. Poor little Arthur Trubshaw disappeared a year and almost a half ago. It will be your job to keep his memory alive in our little skits, recreating his awful demise. Poor boy..." his tone lowered. "...if only I'd gotten my hands on him..."

I curved my eyebrow.

"But no need to dwell on the past!" he leaned forward and grasped my arm in a surprisingly gentle way. "'Tis time to work for m-our future," he promised, leaning forward. His chilling hands flipped my stomach over, before I had the nerve to try and give them back to him, but despite his gaunt arms, he proved to be much stronger than me. His grip on my arm pulled me a tiny bit towards him. "B-But, Father, when are we going to perform? Is it a C-Christmas play?"

Snatcher threw his head back, laughed, and let go. "Of course not!" he replied, guffawing at me. I looked him up and down myself, and couldn't help but smirk too. Mr. Archibald P. Snatcher as Father Christmas? I should say not...

"We won't perform until next July; just in time for the next Trubshaw Baby Remembrance Day! A reenactment to remind our neighbors of why Red Hats brave the streets in the first place!" I nodded along the way. "...I suppose that makes sense." "Of course it does!" "But, Father, if I'm the second most important part, who's the _most_ important part of our play?" Snatcher chuckled at me once more, as he pulled out a file drawer and pulled out a strange wad that reminded me of something strikingly very familiar.

It was my hair.

My clumped, deep red locks were all conjoined in a huge curling cluster of hair, creating the most peculiar wig I'd ever seen. On one hand, it looked meticulously detailed and boasted an outrageous kind of voguish taste. On the other hand however...

"You used my hair to make a wig?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he plucked a tight, elastic cap from that same drawer, hid his dark brown hair under the cap, and fastened the wig on top of his head. He picked out a royal blue fan from another drawer, flashed it open and hid his face behind it.

"Oui, Mademoiselle."

My jaw dropped. The voice he'd adopted was high pitched and very feminine, a voice that made my insides flip over in shock. He rolled down his long shirt sleeve, and slipped on my finished armband. "Ah," he continued. "It is perfection, my darling. I knew I could count on my _leetle_ angel!" I was utterly speechless. He removed the wig and cap, and placed them both in my hands. "You see, my love, I am truthfully Madame Frou Frou! A poor, _fashionable_ victim of the Boxtrolls, the beasts that destroyed my dear hometown, Crackerslovakia! They destroyed all of it, so now it is my life's mission to sing of my woes to neighboring countries and praise the efforts of the bold men that purge them from this world! And _you_ , my charming assistant-" he cupped my face in his long cold fingers. "-will be my supporting star! _My_ Trubshaw Baby!" I couldn't say a word. All I could do was look at him in disbelief. My hair...he was wearing my hair...

"So...does this mean I have to call you 'Mother' from now on?"  
"No."  
"Oh."

Back to his normally rumbling tones, he tilted his head and examined me from the top of my head to my toes. "Well...not when Madame Frou Frou is on hiatus anyway," he explained. "Pepper, as you get older, you will find that the men in this town are quite infatuated by certain women." He placed me back on the floor and left his chair to look out a tall lean window, curtained with blood red. "Tall... _curvaceous_ women of entertainment quality and grace." He looked me up and down. "Unfortunately, all I have are three dim stooges and a bony girl who gets sick easily and trips too often."

I looked down at my shuffled feet.

He tilted my chin upward to look at him. Bent forward and grinning encouragingly, something in me warned me of him. "But you four aren't entirely hopeless. Quite useful actually. Luckily, I have some theatrical experience myself, and will lead you all well." "Father, you're an actor?" He smirked. "Well, I was. When I was your age, I'd sneak away from _my_ Father, _your_ Grandfather, to take part in Cheesebridge's fine arts district, mostly acting. Much like yourself, I played young characters then, even a few ladies. Of course, my Father never thought well of such things, but I disagree. The fine arts are a capital way to send the proper messages to your fellow man." "Is 'Crackers-vokia' a real place? I don't want to lie." He patted my head. "You needn't worry of that, dearest." "But, Father, you hate it when I lie." "When it's against me and my men."

I looked away confused. He petted my head, making me smile a little. "You worry too much. Just follow my lead, and all will be made clear. Understand?"

"Yes, Father."

...

He sent me away for a break. I couldn't help but run my own fingers through my still short hair. I looked up at my fingers and hummed as I entered my room and laid down. At least he was in a good mood. After tossing log after log into the heater and my needlework, a break was greatly welcomed, I figured. I put Rosie on top of my stomach and smiled at her. Then, my nose started tickling itself. I wrinkled it, and closed and tightened my face. I breathed heavily and my chest tightened.

"ACHOO!"


End file.
